


The Opposite of Amnesia

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Series: I Know I'm Supposed to Love You [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Harry is a curse breaker, M/M, draco is a father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 39,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's home has layers of old, dark magic that he can't remove. He has to hire the best person to keep him and Scorpius safe. Even if that person is Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> folks, i'm an architect not a gardener. But I'm behind on this 25 days of HP so this is going to evolve as it goes.  
> it's likely to be unbeta'd, so have patience with my scattered brain.

 

“Once upon a time, a young prince lived in a castle. He was the most handsome man in the entire kingdom, with his gorgeous blond hair and his eyes the color of the grey winter sky.”

“Papa, is this story about you?” Scorpius yawned and rubbed his eyes. Draco knew Scorpius wouldn’t stay awake for the whole story, but he would try.

Draco pulled the woolen blanket up to his son’s shoulders, making sure that Mr. Bunny’s worn face and ears weren’t hidden. He couldn’t suffocate the stuffed animal again. According to Scorpius, Mr. Bunny now had a deep seated distrust of Papa.

“Absolutely not. Do I look like a prince in a castle?” 

Scorpius giggled and shook his head back and forth on the pillow. “You look like a Papa in my bedroom.”

“Good. Now hush, or you’ll fall asleep before the story is over.” Draco smoothed his son’s fringe and then caressed his cheek.

Scorpius hugged Mr. Bunny and whispered, “Don’t interrupt him again, ‘kay?” His blinks dragged out, longer between closed and open again.

“During the winter, the snow would fall and fall, covering the roof and the tree tops. It would blanket the gardens and grounds. Although the castle was big and fierce, it was a lonely place for the Prince. No one would come and play with him because they feared the King and Queen. In the summers, though, the Prince was happy because he could play outside until the lightning bugs came out. He would climb trees and smell flowers and tell stories to the fish who lived in the brook that flowed through the woods behind the castle.

“Sometimes the Prince would fall from a tree and hurt himself, so he had to teach himself healing spells and potions.”

“Like _Episkey_ when I bumped my nose.” Scorpius mumbled into Mr. Bunny’s head. 

Draco traced the bridge of Scorpius’ nose, noting with pride that he had left no scar or bump. “Yes. Like that. But he also knew how to mend clothing, especially ripped knees in trousers, so the Queen or King wouldn’t yell.” This time he tickled Scorpius’ knee and was rewarded with a kick in the thigh as his son twisted and giggled. 

“Even though the Prince liked the castle, he thought there must be more to the world. More to see and do and more people to talk to than just fish. He asked his tutors about other kingdoms and other countries, and they spun wonderful stories of the deserts in North Africa, where there was nothing to see but sand and more sand. And it never snowed. Or the jungles in South America, where monkeys swung from tree to tree and snakes were as big as a 5-year old boy’s legs.”

Draco felt the presence of the man standing in the bedroom doorway before he heard the soft cough. He ignored both. Instead, he watched his son’s chest rise and fall with the rhythm of his sleep.

“Good night, love.” Draco kissed the top of his son’s head, his hair soft and white-blond as Draco’s had been at that age. He took a deep breath and flexed his hands to ready himself for this. He turned to the doorway. 

Draco set his jaw and remembered to be polite. “Thank you for agreeing to help. You come highly recommended.” The dark spells that had been embedded into the timbers and stones of the house were too powerful even for him to remove. He needed a curse breaker, and unfortunately Harry Potter was the best. 

To make this house safe for his son, he would swallow his pride and hire Potter. Even if he choked on it. He held his hand out to shake Potter’s hand, because it was the civilized thing to do.

“I like a good challenge.” Harry’d shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and made no effort to take Draco’s hand. “These old places, they can be tricky. Gotta have the right person.”

Draco closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and breathed. He wasn’t 11 anymore. He wouldn’t rise to this asshat’s bait. “I’ve removed several layers of the spells myself.” 

“I’m sure you did the best you could.” Harry leaned against Scorpius’ doorframe, still relaxed. “Yeah. I can do this for you. But I’m not available during the day. Has to be nights or not at all.” 

Draco felt the tension deep in his neck muscles and down into his shoulders. He desperately wanted to roll his head to release it but would never give Harry the satisfaction.

“Nights will be fine. I will make it work.” Draco walked out of Scorpius’s room; Harry shifted his back to the frame, not to make room for Draco to pass but to take up more of the space. Draco’s side dragged against Harry’s front. It was that or pass through sideways—which would have put him face-to-face with Potter. 

He really didn’t want that.

Draco grabbed the paperwork from Potter’s hand and headed down the hallway to the kitchen where he had a quill. The sooner he signed, the sooner Potter could start, and the sooner he’d be gone again. 

“A prince in a castle, huh? Some things _don’t_ change.” 

Draco bit his lip and tasted blood. _I’m not that person any more._ “I’m not paying you to judge me.” 

“Oh, that’s free.” Harry smiled as he took the contract from Draco’s hand. “Call it a gift with a purchase.”

Harry closed the back door behind him, leaving Draco rummaging his cabinets for a pain-relief potion that would take care of the pain in his neck.


	2. The Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's story tonight is about the Royal Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so late. technically it's still 12/2. lol.
> 
> Today's early bird picture prompt is Kreacher. 

“We couldn’t wait for bedtime!” Scorpius danced around his room, spinning away each time Draco came near him with his footie pyjamas. 

“Oh, then perhaps you need a nap after school.” Draco blew his fringe out of his eyes. His styling cream had given up hours ago, about 20 minutes after the Floo roared to life and Scorpius and Mr. Bunny tumbled through, rambunctious after a day stuck in school.

“No, Papa. I’m a big boy. I don’t take naps.” Scorpius giggled at the suggestion. 

“I’m a big boy, and I take naps.” Draco countered, even though he knew Scorpius would never nap unless he were ill. 

“Mr. Bunny says you take way too many naps for a grown up.” Scorpius listened to Mr. Bunny whisper and then added, “He says you’re lazy.”

Draco heard the front door open and snick shut. Good. He’d changed the wards to allow Potter through because he wanted to deal with that man face-to-face as little as possible. 

“Lazy, huh? Come here, you urchin. I’ll show you who’s lazy.” With more play than intent, Draco finally wrestled Scorpius into the pyjamas and tucked him into bed

"Mr. Bunny and I would like to hear more about the Prince tonight. Please and thank you." Scorpius looked pleased with himself for remembering his magic words.

Draco's search of Scorpius' bookcases for The Stinky CheeseMan and Other Fairly Ridiculous Tales ground to a halt. He looked over at his son, conferring with Mr. Bunny. 

"And Papa. Mr. Bunny says not to—skimp on the details like you did last night." Scorpius closed one eye and, with the other, looked up and to the right, remembering the big word.

Draco heard his vertebrae popping as he stood up. Too old to do this shit alone. "Mr. Bunny better watch his tone or he may find himself in a stew. How does he even know a word like skimp?”

Scorpius squirmed and giggled. “Last week when we had pie, you said to Kreacher, Don’t skimp on the whipped cream. He got really mad and mumbled all night.” Scorpius tried to imitate the house elf’s growly-grumbly voice, but didn’t quite succeed. “Master is bossing Kreacher. Just because Master pays Kreacher now Master cannot be bossing Kreacher.” 

Draco laughed. Between the house elf and the kid, he would either be in jail or go certifiable. As he righted the now-jumbled blanket, Draco heard Potter’s footsteps on the hallway’s wooden floor. His stomach dove to its pits with the sound; dinner churned dangerously.

“Who came in the house, Papa?” 

“I hired a workman to remove the bad spells from the house. He will be here in the evenings until he finishes. Enough stalling.” Pinching Mr. Bunny’s ears, Draco hauled him out from the blanket for a stern talking-to. “If you two don’t want me to skimp, you’d best let me start.” 

He stared eye-to-eye at Mr. Bunny before he realized he was actually waiting for the rabbit to answer. “You need a fucking social life, Malfoy.” He nodded, agreeing with his own inner voice.

He tucked Mr. Bunny back under the blanket and patted it as an apology. “The Prince’s mother and father were the Queen and the King. The King was a stern and shouty man. But the Queen was mostly kind and loving. She was very regal and very beautiful. She spent a lot of her time ruling the kingdom, but sometimes during the summer, she would borrow the pair of trousers and the shirt that the gardener kept in his potting shed. She would hide her hair in a kerchief, and the Queen would traipse the fields and woods with the Prince.”

Scorpius put his hand on Draco’s arm, to get his attention. “Was the Queen’s name Cinderella? She wore old, torn clothes when she didn’t want to be Queen.” Scorpius knew these important things. 

“No. Not Cinderella. The Queen couldn’t wear her fancy robes into the woods, or they would get torn and the gold threads would get pulled. She and the Prince would climb trees, racing each other to see who could climb higher. She showed her son how to forage for edible wild plants, like woodsorrel and chickweed, and she knew which plants would help with skinned knees or elbows. She showed him how to walk through the brush and woods and never leave a broken branch or turned leaf that could be tracked. The Queen took these lessons very seriously and made sure that the Prince did, too.”

“You can’t eat weeds, Papa. You have to blast them out of the garden.” Scorpius held Mr. Bunny like a machine gun. “Tat tat tat tat tat tat,” he said, shooting the imaginary weeds.

“You are such a violent child. Whose son are you?” Draco shook his head in mock exasperation.

“I’m yours! But Papa, was my Mummy the Queen?” Scorpius pursed his lips, and his forehead wrinkled as he thought this deep thought.

“No dear. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” He heard Harry tapping the baseboards in the hallway and the wooden planks of the floor. 

As if the word asleep held power, Scorpius yawned, a great, jaw-stretching yawn. “I’m not tired, Papa.”

Draco rolled his eyes and nodded. He thought he heard a snicker from the hallway.

“The Queen showed the Prince how to make plants grow tall and healthy. She was always happiest in her flower garden, talking to her roses and asking them how their day was and would they please grow? One day, some of the townspeople came to the castle and recognized the Queen with her dirty clothes and dirty hands. Soon, word spread. Isn’t it wonderful that the Queen is just like us? the people said. 

“But the King didn’t like it at all.”

Scorpius’s lip quivered. “Oh no,” he said softly. “Did she have to sit in the naughty corner?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, sir.” The workman knocked on the open bedroom door. Draco suspected the timing was on purpose, so he could avoid asking about how the Queen had been punished. “If you have a moment?” Harry turned back to the hallway.

“Papa!” Scorpius thought he was whispering. He really wasn’t. “That man is dressed like the Queen.”

Harry turned back into the room. He heard the young voice and looked down at his clothes. He belly laughed when he realized his knees showed through the worn fabric, and he still wore his painted shirt, streaked with sweat and dirt. “And who is this intelligent young gent?” Harry leaned to his side to get a better look at Scorpius. But Draco blocked Harry’s line of sight.

Since Harry knew the boy couldn’t see him, he flipped Draco off with a smirk and left. 

“Good night, love.” Draco turned off the light and kissed his son’s forehead. He kissed Mr. Bunny’s forehead, too, and went in search of Harry.

“Teaching your son Muggle fairy tales now, huh? What must Lucius think of that?” 

Draco took a deep breath before he answered. “I don’t know. I don’t speak to him. And I raise my son according to my values, not his.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco’s vehemence. “You used to care a lot about what he thought.”

“I’ve grown up, Potter. You might give it a try.” Draco immediately regretted losing his temper. But damn, it felt really good. 

“Grown up but not away. This house has Black family magic all through it. Dark shit. Some seriously dark shit.” Harry stared at the walls, as if he could see the magic coursing through them.

“We needed a somewhere to live, and my Aunt Andromeda told me about this place. She thought that this was used as a safe house for The Dark Lord during the First Wizarding War.” Sometimes Draco was certain the house was actively working against them. 

Harry preened. “Now I understand why you didn’t have the skills. It’s even going to take me longer than I thought.”

Draco stammered. “I won’t pay you more than we agreed upon—”

Harry laughed in derision. “Do you think I would take your money?” He collected his tools and jammed them into his hold-all. “I’m doing this as a favor.”

Draco folded his arms across his chest and planted his feet. “You don’t owe me any favors, and I won’t let you hold this over my head.”

Harry threw the strap of the bag over his shoulder and grabbed a handful of glittery Floo powder from the bowl on the mantle. “No kidding I don’t owe you any favors. This is for Andromeda and Teddy. Because Scorpius is Teddy’s friend.” Just before he threw the dust into the flames, Harry sneered, “I’m doing this for your son. Not for you.”

And Harry was gone in a burst of emerald green flames. Draco fell into his armchair with his face buried in his hands. He sat that way long after the flames turned back to orange and smoldered as embers.

 

 

.


	3. Snowy Train Tracks to Anywhere Else But Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early bird Prompt: snowy Train Tracks  
> 
> 
> Draco's exhausted from holding down a job and raising his son alone. Harry's an asshat. a Twatwaffle. But why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd so please be kind and leave me love!  
> 25 pics for 25 fics.

“Early bath and bed tonight, Stinger,” Draco said as he cleared the few plates from the dinner table. “We’ve been staying up too late telling stories and playing.”

“Kay-kay.” Scorpius climbed down from his dinner chair. He pulled back Mr. Bunny’s chair and dragged him off the stack of books he’d piled on the chair so that Mr. Bunny’s arms could reach the table.

“Stinger—” Draco stood at the trash can, casually scraping the bits and pieces of dinner off the plates. “What do the other children at school say when you bring Mr. Bunny to school every day?”

Scorpius considered the question, twirling as he thought. “They love him, Papa. They make sure he has his own chair next to me and the teacher makes sure he always has a copy of the book we are reading. But Mr. Bunny is very polite and always says please and thank you.”

“Well, that’s good.” Draco sighed in relief and hid his smile because of how serious his son was. When he put the plate in the sink, Draco bared his pretend fangs and showed his pretend claws. “Race you to the bathroom, and the last one in gets tickled by the werewolf!”

After they reenacted Lord Nelson and the Battle of Trafalgar in the tub, Draco toweled Scorpius off. While Scorpius wriggled into his pyjamas, Draco toweled the rest of the bathroom which did not fare as well as Lord Nelson.

Scorpius ran off to his room, leaving Draco to pick up the dirty, wet clothes and towels. “It’s a good thing I like you!” Draco called after him and the only answer he received were squeals and giggles.

He heard the front door open and shut. He ignored it. _I’m ignoring it_. Ignored the squeak of trainers on the wood floor. Ignored the aroma of full, rich coffee that appeared out of nowhere.

“Cinderella is back, Papa.” Scorpius said as he climbed into his bed.

“His name isn’t Cinderella, Scorpius. His name is Mr. Potter.” Draco braced himself for the onslaught.

Scorpius’ eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. “Mr. Harry Potter? The Mr. Harry Potter? Papa we were just learning about him in school. He’s a hero!” Scorpius jumped up, ready to run down the hall and tackle The Chosen One.

Draco tackled him and pushed him back into bed. “He’s not a hero. He’s just a person. Like you. Like me.”

“But he defeated the Dark Lord and saved all of Wizard Kind!”

Draco pushed his fringe back from his forehead and rubbed his temples. “He was a boy who talked with his mouth full and slurped his pumpkin juice and barely passed Potions. Now, story tonight or no?”

Nodding, Scorpius snuggled down and clung to Mr. Bunny.

“The Prince had learned so much from the Queen and his tutors. So one day, he decided to set out to see the world and make new friends. But it has snowed the night before, and he thought it would be a lot of fun to see what the world looked like all snowy and white.

Scorpius laughed. “I don’t think the Prince lived in London. The snow is yucky and dirty.”

Draco ruffled his son’s hair. “That is very true, Stinger. His kingdom wasn’t in a city. It was out in the country. It was a wizarding kingdom, Muggles lived nearby. And Muggles travel by train sometimes.”

“Like the Hogwarts Express, when we picked up Teddy for Samhain?” Scorpius asked, sitting upright. When Draco nodded, Scorpius pulled Mr. Bunny close to his chest. “Mr. Bunny didn’t like that train. He thought it was scary and was afraid he would fall under it.” His voice grew quieter with each word.

“Mr. Bunny was safe, and in case anyone else were worried, I could save them.”

Scorpius relaxed back into his pillow. “I wasn’t worried. But Mr. Bunny feels better.”

“The Prince decided to walk through the woods in the snow, and see what animal tracks he could find and follow. He charmed his outside clothing to keep warm and walked into the woods always looking around. He found some rabbit tracks that were clear in the snow and followed and followed them. The Prince never found the rabbits…”

“Whew. You’re safe, Mr. Bunny,” Scorpius mumbled.

“But he found tracks for the Muggle train. He’d sometimes heard the train late at night and dreamed of it taking him someplace grand, but now he knew where they were. One day he would follow them to see where they took him.”

But Scorpius was sound asleep, curled into a ball with his hand clutching Mr. Bunny to his chest.

“Good night, Love.” Draco kissed his son’s forehead and turned out the light. He closed the door and walked into Harry, who’d been leaning against the hallway wall with a mug of coffee in his hand.

Harry didn’t move, forcing Draco to walk around him. _Childish_ , Draco thought. “Do you ever actually do anything when you’re here? You only stay for like 20 minutes.” Draco didn’t bother to speak to Harry, who trailed him to the kitchen.

“I do quite a lot, thank you. I peer into the walls. I wave my wand. I listen to your boring bedtime stories. Today I brought coffee. That was doing something.” Harry put his empty mug on the countertop, and Draco knew it would leave a ring-shaped stain. But. Coffee.

“Thank fuck. Between working all day and then parenting, I could really use a cup.” Draco’s smile of relief stretched across his face.

Something crossed Harry’s eyes. It was so brief that Draco wasn’t sure he’d even seen it.

But then Harry smiled. “Oh, I didn’t bring any for you. Spell breaking is difficult work. I have to make sure I’m hydrated, caffeinated and—”

“Absolutely hated?” Draco smirked. Asshat wasn’t a good enough descriptor. Twatwaffle. Yes. What twatwaffle would dangle a mug of coffee in front of an exhausted man and then withdraw it.

“Just another service I provide.” Harry seemed chipper. He rinsed out his coffee mug and tucked the Thermos back into his hold-all.

Draco dropped onto one of the barstools at the counter, exhausted by this. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. “Why are we doing this, Potter?”

“Well. You had a perfectly good home, and then you moved into this maelstrom of dark magic.” Harry waved his hand toward the walls and floor. “And you called the best Breaker you knew.”

“I couldn’t live with my parents any longer. You know that.” Draco strained to keep his voice even.

“I wasn’t talking about that house.” Fury bled through every word Harry hissed. “But it seems ‘the Prince wanted to set out to see the world and make new friends.’” Harry’s fingers slashed quotes in the air.

“No. You don’t get to be righteously indignant. I didn’t choose to leave. **_You kicked me out_**.”

Harry had no response. He slammed his bag over his shoulder and disapparated on the spot.


	4. The Curious Incident of a Motorcycle in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EarlyBird Prompt: Motorcycle in the Snow
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Apparently, friends apologize when one of them fucks up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> within the next few chapters the fic will explain what happened in the past. thank you for your patience with the sporadic posting time.

Draco stood at the ready as the Floo roared to life and tumbled a boy and his bunny into the lounge.

“Papa!”

Draco picked up Scorpius and flipped him upside down and onto Draco’s shoulder. Scorpius wiggled and kicked. “Put us dowwwwwwn. Mr. Bunny doesn’t like looking at the ceiling!”

Draco spun in circles on his way to the sofa, and when he sat down, he released Scorpius, who wobbled as he tried to walk.

“Woah…woahwwoah! I’m dizzzzzzy.”

“Come here, silly Stinger.” Draco scooped Scorpius up and cuddled him to his chest. He toed off his shoes and the two of them lay on the couch pressed together. “We haven’t seen Grand-mère in a while. She invited us to visit this weekend.”

Scorpius’ hair tickled Draco’s chin as he nodded. “Will Harry Potter be going with us?”

“Why would you ask that?” No. Harry Potter wouldn’t be coming anywhere near Scorpius if Draco could help it.

“He’s _here_ alllllll the time.” Scorpius dragged the word out. Draco knew his son would be rolling his eyes, too. “Maybe he’ll be _there_ , too.”

“I can promise you he won’t be near Grand-mère anytime soon.” Draco pushed the fringe back from Scorpius’ forehead and kissed him. “What do you say we take a little nap, and then we can order a pizza for dinner?”

“Story first, please and thank you.” Scorpius snuggled higher on Draco’s shoulder, so he didn’t fall in between his father and the sofa. He had a plan. It was a good plan.

Draco pulled a blanket over them. With a yawn, he said, “Once upon a time, the brilliant, handsome Prince decided he didn’t want to live alone any longer. So he went in search of a best friend. He searched everywhere, but couldn’t find one because they all belonged to someone already. He went back home and he was sad, but guess what…the Prince found when…he got home?”

“Mr. Bunny.” Scorpius looked at Mr. Bunny when he said it, but he said it very quietly because Papa had stopped talking and his breaths were long and snory. He slid down Draco’s body bit by bit until he could roll off the couch and go play while Draco slept.

~*~

The growl of a motorbike in front of their house startled Draco awake. Confused by the darkness, he fumbled for his wand. A quick _Lumos_ would provide enough light to see what the hell time it was.

“Papa, is that the pizza man?” Scorpius snuck into the lounge, hoping it might look like he just woke up, too. “I’m hungry.”

“No, it’s just a motorcycle on the street.” Draco squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them thinking that it might make the numbers less fuzzy. He just needed to break down and wear the damn glasses. 6:30. “Ok, Stinger, go play in your room, and I’ll call for pizza.”

“Kay-kay, Papa. And Mr. Bunny says make it half carrots.” Scorpius skipped off toward his room.

“Mr. Bunny can buy his own damn pizza!” Draco called after him with a laugh as he dialed the pizza place around the corner. He called so often that they knew his voice and his regular order and even method of payment.

The front door opened, letting in a gust of cold air. With his back to the door, Draco said, “I didn’t think you would show up tonight.”

“I made a promise, and I keep my promises.” Harry controlled his tone. “Now if you will excuse me.” He stripped off his heavy winter overcoat and dropped it on the couch. The black leather motorcycle boots left snow-water patterns on the wood floors as Harry walked through the lounge to the basement door.

Draco wanted to be indignant. He wanted to be enraged that Potter didn’t have the common sense God gave a rat, because if he had, he would have taken his goddamn boots off before he ruined the floors.

But those stupid jeans he wore tonight.

He’d dragged Harry into the big Levi’s store on Regent’s Street and forced him to buy new jeans. The others were indecent, too small and while they were perfect in all the right places, they were absolutely unfit for public wear. As they were painting their bedroom not even a week later, Harry had tripped on those feet and fell flat on Draco’s paintbrush. Somehow, it had left a heart-shaped paint stain on Harry’s arse, and he said he’d keep those jeans forever.

Apparently he had.

The doorbell interrupted his thoughts. He grabbed his wallet that held only Muggle money and fished out a £10 note. The delivery boy greeted Draco warmly and handed over the pizza with a _thank you, Mr. Malfoy_ and _Happy Christmas_!

In the kitchen, Draco grabbed two Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles plates and two bottles of water and balanced them in one hand with the pizza box in the other. “Pizza picnic tonight, Scorpius.” He tapped the bedroom door open with the toe of his shoe, and waited for Scorpius to clear the play table and take his favorite seat facing the window. Draco sat in the child-sized plastic chair facing the doorway.

“Double pepperoni,” Draco said as he dragged a slice onto Scorpius’ plate. “Your favorite.”

Scorpius looked at Draco with disdain. “Mr. Bunny says he’s…irrigated.”

Draco snickered behind his hand. “I think you may mean _irritated_. If you mean upset.”

“Mr. Bunny is not amused.”

“This is a little creepy now, Scorpius. Tell Mr. Bunny to eat his invisible pizza and be quiet.” Maybe he’d try to conveniently forget Mr. Bunny at home this weekend. But, more than likely, it would just end in a cosmic meltdown for Scorpius and a migraine for Draco.

They ate instead of talking, listening to tip-tip-tapping of Harry’s wand on the copper pipes accompanying the wireless replaying a Celestina Warbeck Christmas special. He hated Celestina Warbeck.

“Papa,” Scorpius said into his chest. “Mr. Bunny said he’s sorry that he was rude. He also said that he should be thankful for dinner instead of being bossy.” He picked at the crust, tearing small pieces off and stacking them on his plate.

“Mr. Bunny is a good friend. And friends forgive each other, even if sometimes they say mean things.” Draco took Scorpius’ hand and gently squeezed it.

“Brilliant advice. I hope Mr. Bunny follows it.”

Draco stood up, toppling the too-small chair. “Keep eating, honey. I’ll be right back.” He left the room and closed the door behind him. “Done already?” He could feel the vein pulsing in his jaw.

“These things take time. Start. Stop. Come back later. It’s not an exact science. It has to do with feelings and being in tune with magic.” Harry flashed a cold smile.

Draco squeezed his fingers into a fist so hard that he could feel his nails digging into his palm. _What the actual fuck was I thinking when I hired him_. He pushed those words aside and said, “How many more sessions are you expecting this will take.”

Draco saw a smile play around the corners of Harry’s lips. “I expect this will take at least one cycle of the moon. Then I will be able to determine if any of the dark magic is linked to werewolves. Voldemort—”

Harry said the name so casually, but Draco still gasped at its use.

“Really, Malfoy? Still unable to say Voldemort?”

“Fuck off, Potter.” There had to be other dark magic breakers. He couldn’t be the only one.

“As I was saying,” Harry’s voice sounded lighter, more playful after coaxing a rise out of Draco. “Voldemort hung around with a lot of ugly people, werewolves included. I want to make sure that none of the spells are related to that. I suspect it won’t take much longer than Christmas. New Year’s at the outside most.”

Draco opened the door to Scorpius’ bedroom. “See yourself out,” he said before he shut the door in Harry’s face.

Draco rested his forehead on the closed door, resisting every urge to bang his head against it. _Shit_. Draco needed to tell Potter that they wouldn’t be home this weekend.

He wrenched the door open to catch Harry before he left, and wound up shouting in Harry’s face.

Draco apologized for yelling. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Harry smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Draco had never seen green eyes so cold. “Look at that. You _can_ apologize.”

And Harry picked up his hold-all and walked away.


	5. The Itteh Bitteh Kitteh Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco takes Scorpius to Narcissa's house to get away from Harry. Like Seriously? can he not make ONE good decision 
> 
> based on this prompt: 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why am i doing this to poor draco

“Over the river and through the woods, to Grand-mère’s house we go…”

Scorpius spilled out of the Floo singing his Christmas carol and hit Narcissa’s legs at a full run. “Grand-mère! We’re here!”

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. That is no way for a young gentleman to comport himself.” In spite of her disapproval of Draco’s parenting skill, Narcissa smiled as she fussed. She lifted her grandson into a hug, pressing kisses into the crease of his neck, breathing in his soap and powder scent.

As Draco took their coats to the closet, Narcissa settled in on the couch with Scorpius on her lap. “Tell Grand-mère everything that is new with you. We have a bit of time before our dinner.” She took Mr. Bunny from Scorpius’ hands and placed the stuffed animal on the couch.

Scorpius endured the indignity as best he could. Papa had taught him a coping skill for when was upset. He breathed in through his nose and slowly blew the breath out through his pursed lips.

Draco sized up the situation and immediately knew the problem. He sat on the couch and smiled, giving Scorpius a thumbs up. _You’re okay, Stinger. You got this_.

“I have so many new things to tell you!” And Scorpius was off. School. Mr. Bunny. Play group. Piano lessons. “And Mr. Potter comes to our house every night…”

Narcissa dropped her chin and side-eyed Draco.

Draco interrupted as fast as he could before Scorpius said anything more incriminating. “Stinger, why don’t you see if you can find the _Nimbus 3000_ ornament on Grand-mère’s tree.”

“Grand-mère may have left a present out for you near the tree, Scorpius.” Narcissa’s raised eyebrow said more to Draco than he wanted to hear.

With a delighted squeal, Scorpius jumped off her lap and ran out of the drawing room.

“Draco, must you use that diminutive? It’s terribly pedestrian for such a noble name.” With her hands, Narcissa brushed out the wrinkles in her skirt, the distaste visible on her face. Her point made, she changed the subject. “So your Mr. Potter has been by…”

Steady.

Calm.

“He’s not _‘my Mr. Potter,’_ Mother. He is removing old curses on the house.” Draco kept his voice calm and steady. _Always rehashing the past. For once, could the past stay in the past._

“Oh Draco.” Narcissa sounded defeated. “What prompted you to move into that hovel when you have all of Malfoy Manor at your disposal.” Draco could hear the mea culpa of _how have we failed you when all we did was love you_ in her voice.

“When I moved back here directly after Scorpius’ birth, I thanked you for taking me back, but I was clear that I would not be staying. And we all recognize that it is for the best.”

At that moment, Scorpius sprinted into the drawing room, a calico kitten cradled against his chest. “Grand-mère! Is this my gift?”

Between the kitten’s paws Draco saw a hint of what he assumed was the green ribbon his mother used to hang ornaments. His shoulders sagged at the thought of what damage this kitten had already done.

“Yes, he will be a wonderful new friend.” Narcissa beamed at Scorpius, carefully holding his new kitten.

Draco gritted his teeth. “Mother, we have spoken about this several times. I can’t have any pets in my home because of potential allergies with my patients.” He used the Healer voice on her that he used when patients became belligerent.

Narcissa ignored Draco and his tone. “What should we name him?” She reached over and stroked the kitten’s fur with the tips of her fingers.

Scorpius sat on the couch next to his grandmother, nestling the kitten. “I already know. His name is Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny.”

Frowning, Narcissa asked, “Mr. Bunny?”

The kitten climbed out of the basket that Scorpius’ small hands had made and was attempting to scale Scorpius’ new Christmas jumper. Draco cringed at the pulls in the cashmere, but Scorpius giggled uncontrollably.

“No, Grand-mere. Not Mr. Bunny. _Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny._ ” His laugh was infectious, and within moments, Draco couldn’t hold back his own.

“Take Mr. Bunny and Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny to play in your room.” Draco watched his son leave, the giggles still cascading in his wake.

He turned to his mother, who feigned innocence. “Well played, Mother. However, the kitten stays here. I will not take it home. And you knew that when you bought it.”

“The child needs friends, Draco. Other people in his life besides you. Perhaps his mother—”

“Stop right there. Just stop.” He bordered on rude, putting his hand up to silence his mother. “First, he doesn’t need anyone besides me and he does already have friends at school. Second, you are not to mention that—” Draco searched for the right word that would match the level of anger he felt at the moment. “—Woman ever aga—”

The wood-paneled door at the far end of the room slid open and a smooth, slick, well-polished voice interrupted Draco. “Son.” Lucius strode into the room, speaking at Draco. “Do not speak to your mother in that manner. I will not tolerate insolence."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow we'll have the first big reveal. xox


	6. Master of the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius.
> 
> Prompt: formal dining room set for Christmas 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still writing but wanted to post what I had. Sorry I missed last night.
> 
> Also, Draco is a Healer-Therapist (like a psychiatrist or psychologist). I mistakenly referred to him as a Mediwizard in the previous chapter, which is not the same thing. I changed it :D

_Years of training to become a Healer-Therapist.._

_Years of working with my own Healer-Therapist._

Yet Draco recoiled at that voice; his heart raced, a cold sweat forming. His father’s temper and bullying could reduce him to a pants-wetting, sniveling mess as a child, but he wasn’t a child and he wasn’t who he was 5 years ago.

“It’s nice to see you, Father.” Draco kept his voice neutral, guarded. He stood to shake hands. He couldn’t remember a time when something intimate or fatherly like a hug would have been expected or welcomed.

At first glance, Lucius looked regal as always. He almost glided across the drawing room. Draco noted the walking stick was back; the silver knob shaped as a serpent’s head ready to strike no longer terrified Draco. That realization emboldened him, and he studied his father for the first time in years. Fine wrinkles outlined his lips and the corner of his eyes. The concealing spell didn’t quite cover the dark circles and bags. Instead of wearing a haughty, ugly sneer, he frowned like someone perpetually upset at the rubbish collector or the neighbor’s dog. But the most drastic change Draco noticed was in his father’s eyes. The years he'd spent in Azkaban after the war had taught him to fear. And when Draco stood and faced his father as an equal, his father faltered, dropping his eyes away for a moment.

“It has been far too long since we have seen you and Scorpius Hyperion.” Lucius overcompensated with a grip too firm and what he thought was a piercing stare. “Where is the child?” He looked around the room, searching only at the floor.

“He’s visiting with his new kitten. I’ll bring him here.” Draco left his parents in the drawing room, knowing they would talk about him as soon as he’d closed the door.

Sweaty and disheveled, Scorpius rolled on the floor with Mr. Bunny and Mr. Bunny's Brother Mr. Bunny. He jumped up when he saw Draco and for one heart-stopping moment, the kitten dangled from the jumper, his claws caught in cashmere threads. Scorpius scooped him up and placed the kitten on his shoulder.

Draco took one look at his son, and his stomach fell. There would be hell if he presented Scorpius in this state. And worse from Narcissa than Lucius.

“Hey, Stinger.” Draco knelt down in front of his son. “Grandfather would like to see you, but let’s tidy up a bit before we go in there.” Giving up on the sweater, Draco pulled it off and dropped it on the bed. The turtleneck under would be fine. He finger-combed Scorpius’ hair and then kissed his cheek. “Alright honey. Do me a favor tonight, ok? If Grandfather says something that is odd, please don’t respond. I will take care of it.”

Scorpius nodded solemnly. “Can I squeeze your hand if I don’t understand?”

“Just like a good team. You and me.” Draco leaned forward and hugged his son. No matter what else had gone to shit, Scorpius was always perfect. He would never regret this child.

They walked hand in hand to the dining room, the table set for 10 although only 4 would be dining.

A pop stopped them in their tracks before they entered the room. “Mr. Draco and Master Scorpius. Dinner is being ready. Binky is showing you to your seats.” The house elf slid open the pocket doors and escorted the guests to one end of the long table.

The elves had outdone themselves decorating this year. Two evergreens stood guard over the room, with fairy lights charmed to remain constant. The ribbons cascaded down the trees like golden waterfalls. They’d used every last piece of the Christmas china, the winter roses in the pattern mirroring those in the long centerpiece.

“Missus Narcissa asked that Master Scorpius is sitting at this side.” Binky struggled to pull the chair away from the table so Scorpius could sit to the left of what was surely Lucius’ chair.

Binky walked around the table, her voice muffled by the height of the table. “Missus Narcissa asked that Mr. Draco sits at this side.”

Scorpius looked to Draco for a cue, unsure whether to follow the house elf’s direction.

So he’s starting already with the passive-aggressive bullshit so I know who’s in charge. Ok. I’ll give.

Draco looked at Scorpius with a warm smile and nodded. “I bet Grand-mere is sitting next to you!” Draco pointed to the still empty seat. “Boy, are you lucky.”

“Which handsome man will be my dinner date?” Narcissa entered the room, banishing Binky with a snap of her fingers.

“Me! Me!” Scorpius wiggled in his chair, almost knocking over his crystal goblet filled with water.

Narcissa smiled and moved Scorpius’ goblet away from his elbow. “I am quite lucky today, to be dining with three dashing men.”

As if on cue, Lucius swept in, taking the chair at the head of the table. He placed his napkin on his lap, and the others followed suit. Draco’s eye contact guided Scorpius who fidgeted more with each delay.

“Papa, can I give Mr. Bunny his own chair?” Scorpius sounded hopeful since there was no place for Mr. Bunny on the actual table.

“May I please…” Narcissa corrected. “Not this evening, darling. This is a people dinner.”

Scorpius nodded, but his lower lip trembled. He reached across the table for Draco’s hand. Draco caught his gaze and winked. He couldn't take Scorpius' hand because the table was too wide.

The first course appeared on their plates. “Beef Carpaccio with a truffle vinaigrette,” Narcissa explained. “I thought Scorpius might prefer the beef to fish.”

Luckily neither grandparent saw Scorpius cross his eyes and stick out his tongue. Draco’s laugh-turned-into-a-cough drew stares from his parents.

“Draco.” Lucius sounded congenial as he rested his fork atop his empty plate.

Draco’s stomach ran cold. This was never good.

“How is your job?” Lucius said it with distaste, as if Draco were a disgrace to the family.

“It’s my career, Father, not just some job.” When Lucius waved away the difference, Draco sighed. “It’s going well. My clients have adjusted to the office being in our new home.”

“I imagine it must be difficult for them if you decide to move, as you just have.”

“It’s several blocks, and they had prior notice. It’s not like it was across the world, Father.” Draco bit his tongue. He was damn close to insolence, and he’d been backhanded more times than he could count at this very table.

“Still.” Lucius tucked into his entrée.

“Papa! Ravioli!” Scorpius bounced in his chair and reached for Draco’s hand, knocking over the water goblet that Narcissa had moved.

“Clumsy child,” Lucius spit out, reaching for his napkin and dabbing at his hands, in the event that some water may have spritzed them.

Draco bolted out of his chair, already casting a Tergeo to siphon the water out of the linen cloth and praying it hadn’t hit the antique table. “It’s okay, Stinger. It was an accident.” Draco kept his voice calm and soothing.

“Perhaps if the child were taught some manners,” Lucius swore under his breath.

 _I’m a good father. I’m a good father. Other people’s opinions of me do not negate what I know to be true_. Draco cradled Scorpius’ cheeks and wiped away the tears with this thumbs.nHe whispered, “You got this. But just so you know, I don’t think they’re Heinz Ravioli from a tin. There’s probably something odd in them, so taste carefully.”

He kissed Scorpius’ cheek and held out the chair so his son could climb back in.

“Binky.” Draco called to the air and with a pop, the house elf appeared. “Binky, do you have a plastic cup that Master Scorpius may use, for the sake of the crystal?”

She disappeared with a nod and reappeared with a plastic sippy cup. “It is being yours from when you is being a baby.” She smiled quickly and left.

“Perhaps if the child were more careful. You used crystal from the time you could walk.” Lucius’ disapproval dripped from his voice. He watched Scorpius lay his napkin flat on his lap and locate the proper fork. At least that was something.

“Did I mention, Lucius, that Draco moved into the old cottage that has been in my family for generations?”

Lucius raised his eyebrows. “The one in Islington? I’m surprised that it is inhabitable; I would think that The Dark Lord would have imbued the very walls and joists with dark magic.”

“I’ve removed most of the curses.” Draco said it simply, hoping that no one would mention Potter’s name.

Lucius again waved away the discussion. “As I was saying before we were interrupted, I’ll speak to the Chief Executive Wizard at St. Mungo’s and have you placed on staff there. You will be able to make a better name for yourself there than in your…”

“No.” Draco cut off Lucius. “No, thank you. I work from home so that I’m available for Scorpius.”

He heard his mother’s sharp intake of breath and the cluck of his father’s tongue.

_My self-esteem is not determined by those around me but about what I know to be true about myself. I am able to assert myself._

“Scorpius, take your cup and go play with Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny in my room. I’ll be there shortly.” Draco's tone left no room for argument, and Scorpius was happy to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm super sorry to leave you there. that's not my style. but i had other obligations today, and I wanted to get posted what I have done. I'm really hoping to get the rest up tonight. (but I still have to write it, lol)


	7. Don't Call Me Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: physical violence. implication of physical abuse. parental bullying. ALSO, magical impreg which may be a rape trigger. PLEASE. don't read if u can't. Leave me a message and I'll tell u what happened. 
> 
> Draco reveals the reason he and Harry aren't together. It's worse than you think. In which Lucius is a dickwipe, Narcissa pretends not to know, and Draco's clarity is perfect. Also, Reveals abt HP and Scorpius.
> 
> Based on this photo prompt: 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take the trigger warning seriously if you are upset by parent bullying and physical abuse. 
> 
>  
> 
> unbeta'd. any mistakes are from my mind :D

Draco waited until Scorpius left the room. Until the echo of the footsteps died out.

Then he picked up his fork and with small, delicate slices cut the butternut squash ravioli. "My compliments, Mother. These are delicious."

He breathed slow and steady as he chewed. He counted the number of sounds he could hear. One: the Christmas tunes piped into the room. Two: the clank of utensils. Three: Scorpius faint giggles. Four:

"If you insist on having a job..."

"Father. I'm not playing. People in crisis rely on me. "

"Crisis." Lucius repeated the word and sneered.

"These are the walking wounded, Father. Some experienced terrible atrocities during the war, and he didn't matter whose side they were on. Families were torn apart. Set on each other. I help these people make sense of what they feel. And to know it's not their fault."

Lucius looked at Draco incredulously. "This generation is weak and whiny. They want to be spoon-fed and reassured that everything will be fine without them doing one bit of work."

Lucius’ tenacity should not have surprised Draco, but it did. He shook his head, knowing his face had turned blotchy and red. "No. They want to know how to reach a point where living is easier than dying." His heart raced and food wasn’t sitting right, but he had to find the courage to speak.

"And do you want those people in the house near your son. One of them could—”

"I keep my son safe. No one will ever torture him or make him watch disgusting, evil things."

"What do you know? You have lived a posh, well-kept life."

Inside, Draco was howled. Slammed his fists against the walls of his safe space. _I do not have to do this ever again. I will not subject myself or my son to this. We deserve better than this._

Outside, he continued to eat his ravioli. _Taste the butternut squash. Breathe. Taste the goat’s cheese. Slow down. Taste the spinach. Breathe_.

Cut.

Eat.

Chew.

Taste.

Ignore.

The silence lay heavy over them. From far away, they occasionally heard Scorpius giggle. The laughter was a reminder, something he could cling to, that this was no longer his life.

Lucius finished picking at his meal, commenting on its taste (“Were these ingredients fresh?”), the way it had been cooked (“Binky. You’ve managed once again to overcook the pasta.”), and oddly, the size of the portions. (“Why have you chosen to be skimpy?”). Draco smiled for the first time since the meal started.

“Does something amuse you, son?” Lucius’ eyes attempted to bore through Draco’s emotional shield.

“You used a word that Scorpius likes. _Skimpy_.” Draco didn’t flinch at the weight of the stare.

Their dirty plates disappeared and dessert appeared in front of each of them. A small cheesecake tart with fresh raspberries and chocolate ribbons adorning the plates.

“Again?” Lucius commented, as if this were the last in a line of personal indignities. “That lazy house elf served this last week.” He shook his head, and Draco knew by the set of his Father’s jaw, Binky would hear about this.

Azkaban hadn’t changed Lucius enough. Tonight, for the first time, he had the distance and the clarity to see who his Father was. Who he’d been.

_Almost done. I am capable of completing this._

The quiet clink of tea spoons and forks did not last long enough.

Lucius took a sip from his teacup. When he placed it on its saucer, he smiled. “Narcissa. It slipped my mind to tell you. Today in Diagon Alley I chanced upon Astoria.”

Draco’s fork scraped against the china plate, sending a chill up his spine. Or perhaps it was fear of where this would end. And Draco wasn’t really sure he could hold back this time or would want to. He kept his eyes down, watching his knuckles turn white as he gripped his fork.

His eyes looked up enough to see his mother. Her complexion had gone white, and she tapped Lucius’ hand to compel him to close his mouth.  
“She is still quite beautiful.” Although Lucius received no response, he continued. “I mentioned that Draco would be visiting us this weekend, and she is eager to see you.” Lucius sat back in his chair to wait and watch.

Draco thought about the Muggle fictions he’d read where the antagonist plucked characters’ nerves until they reacted as he wanted them to. Always ending with the antagonist with the ultimate power because the characters were too cowed to rise up.

“Does she even know?” Draco’s words were Cold. Clipped. But most frightening of all. It was quiet.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucius leaned forward, his back straight. Draco saw an old man. The lines. The machinations. The fear of being unimportant and irrelevant.

_Years of training to become a Healer-Therapist._

_Years of working with my own Healer-Therapist._

At that moment, Draco Malfoy knew he could. But more importantly, he had to. He knew that years later, he would look at this one crystal clear moment, and say, “That changed my life.”

“Does Astoria Greengrass have any memory of what you forced her to do?” Draco placed his fork on the table, removed the napkin from his lap and wiped his lips. He folded the napkin into a precise square before he spoke again.

When he spoke, he looked into his Father’s eyes. Draco’s gaze never faltered, never broke contact.

“Does Astoria Greengrass know that I went out with her those few times to please you, because I thought I could do what you wanted. Be who you wanted me to be: an upstanding wizard, a social climber. Marry an eligible witch from an exceptional, pure blood family. Yes, I took her to bed, because that’s what real men do. But I never fucked her, Father, because I couldn’t get hard.

“Because she wasn’t a man. I’m gay, Father. You knew it then. But what you thought was worse than that was the man I was in love with.” Draco’s voice broke with the memory of how hard he’d loved Harry with his entire self.

Draco no longer heard the gasps from his Mother, who surely knew the history and was more worried about her delicate ears.

“I left Astoria and went to Harry because I knew. And yes. I fucked him that night. And he fucked me. I was never happier than when Harry and I were together. But to you, I was nothing but a disappointment. And worse. A faggot disappointment.

Draco steeled himself to finish this. “Does Astoria know you broke into my home and stole used condoms from my bedroom? That you’d paid a potions master to reverse the spermicide and to give you the spell you needed.

“Does Astoria know that you imperioused her to use the spell to impregnate herself with the sperm? And of course she got pregnant because it was what you wanted, and you always get what you want.” Draco’s voice rose higher as spoke, but he didn’t want it to. Didn’t want it be excused away as an emotional rant. He pulled it back as much as he could, but every muscle in his body shook with anger.

“You hid her away as her belly grew, but you just knew that when she presented me with the child, I would give up my filthy, degenerate ways and beg her to marry me.

“What you didn’t know, what never occurred to you, was that I would ever let anyone fuck me. Because love to you is about dominance. Why would I be weak and submissive. So, it never occurred to you that some of those condoms were Harry’s. He’d used them. He’d fucked me.”

The truth sliced Lucius, who sat back against his chair, unable to keep hold of his indignation at his son’s behavior.

“When you made Astoria impregnate herself, part of the sperm was Harry’s. And when you tampered with the laws of nature, you screwed yourself. Because somehow Harry’s DNA is in that child. When you look at him, he has Malfoy features. But the longer you look, you begin to see bits of Potter in him. His curly hair. His personality.

“But you still got what you wanted when some well-meaning anonymous letter told him about my son, he forced me to leave. Because obviously I had broken his trust. Cheated on him. On us. Because we’d been together almost a year. He believed I’d gone behind his back and all that we were, to fuck a woman.”

Draco stood up abruptly and his chair toppled over. The clatter of the wood on wood echoed in the deathly silence of the room. “I love that child, and I will protect him with my life. He will not be bullied and abused as you did to me.”

With one last, great breath, Draco finished. “As you did to Mother. She never stumbled into a door. She was never clumsy and hurt herself tripping over a loose carpet. And when you taught her a lesson about dressing like a rag picker in public, I knew at that moment that I would never be like you.”

Faster than Draco had ever thought his Father could move, Lucius was up from his chair and slapped Draco, open palm and high on the cheekbone, splitting the skin. Then again across his mouth. Lucius’ chest heaved with the anger and adrenaline, his hands curled into fists and ready to strike again. “Son.”

Draco would never know what that one word meant. It may have been an apology. And epithet. A curse. But he wouldn’t allow Lucius to continue.

“Don’t call me son. I’ll never be like you. I’m not a fucking bully.”

Draco strode out of the room with the same control he’d shown during his diatribe. He may break down, but not in this house. He followed the sound of Scorpius’ laughter, around corners and down halls, until he found the source in the grand bedroom that was to be theirs that night.

Scorpius lay on his back on the floor in front of the fireplace, his knees like mountains. Mr. Bunny rested against his knees, but the kitten walked the length of Scorpius’ body, back and forth. It stopped to smell. To withdraw its razor claws. To knead and knead and walk in a circle until it settled, curled up on Draco’s small stomach.

Before he said anything to his son, Draco pointed the wand at his face and cast a silent Episky, healing his split lip and the cut on his cheek. He wouldn’t be able to keep the injuries from Scorpius, who would read it in the blood splatter on his shirt and the pain in his Father’s eyes.

“Hey Stinger.”

Scorpius’ smile made Draco weak. He would forever thank God for this gift, if not for the how and the why.

“I would like to sleep in our home tonight. What do you say? Just the 4 of us?”

Scorpius tilted his head and looked at his Father.

“You. Me. Mr. Bunny. And Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny.” Scorpius jumped up and shoved his jumper into Draco’s hold-all.

“Let’s go before you change your mind!” Scorpius dragged the hold-all to the fireplace.

“I’m not changing my mind, buddy. Not about anything.”


	8. Let Me Tell You about My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt : Gringott's Bank 
> 
> Draco and Scorpius don't even spend the night at Malfoy Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok. back on track. chapter 8 on day 8.

Draco shimmied Scorpius into the jumper, then tucked the kitten in through the neck. He appraised the situation and decided that side-along apparition would be cleanest and fastest way home.

With a final look around, Draco linked his arm with Scorpius’ and focused on the 3D’s.

_Destination._ He pictured their home in Islington, safe and happy. Theirs.

_Determination._ They needed to be there. Safe and happy.

_Deliberation._

Scorpius’ yeeeeowch of pain interrupted Draco’s concentration. The kitten had taken offense at being sequestered in the too-hot jumper and attempted to claw his way to freedom.

Frustrated at the delay, Draco disengaged the claws from Scorpius’ turtleneck and dragged the kitten out from under the jumper.

“Don’t go.”

Narcissa ran into the room, out of breath and in tears. “Please don’t leave.” The pain in her voice delayed him.

“It’s best for all of us.” Draco’s anger had leached away, with only exhaustion in its wake.

Scorpius looked up at his Father and Grand-mère, confused that Father seemed angry and sad, and Grand-mère seemed sad and afraid.

“You don’t have to stay with him, Mother. We have room.” Draco pleaded with what he said and what he didn’t say.

“He hasn’t done that in years. He’s changed.”

“No, he hasn’t, Mother. I counsel those who abuse and those who are abused. They all tell the same lies.”

Narcissa stood silently, unable to look at her son’s face. “I love him.”

“I know you do.” He kissed her cheek, careful not to blot his bloody shirt onto her formal robes. “If you ever change your mind, you are always welcome with us.”

She backed out of the hug, wiping at her tears as Draco linked his arm through Scorpius’ and disapparated to their living room.

The clock chimed ten times, hours past Scorpius’ bedtime. “Sleep in my bed tonight, honey. I need to wash my face and hands, and I’ll be in.”

Scorpius nodded slowly and dragged himself to the master bedroom. Draco washed his hands and face in the kitchen sink, replaying his words to his father and to his mother.

Mindlessly, he reached into the cabinet and poured two fingers of firewhiskey. He needed something stronger than tea tonight.

 

~*~

Draco woke up with fur on his tongue. Literally.

At some point during the night, Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny decided that Draco’s body made the best possible mattress. Apparently he’d moved up Draco’s body until he found the perfect location: under Draco’s chin with the fluffy tail laying over Draco’s mouth.

He picked up MBBMB (That’s no better, he thought. This cat needs a shorter name.) and, against his better judgment, he rolled out of bed to take the cat outside. Finding a litter box today would be first priority. Draco watched MBBMB pee in the early morning sunlight and then picked the kitten up to find Scorpius.

“Stinger, we have a problem.” Draco set the kitten on Scorpius’ lap, on top of the book he was reading. Scorpius whispered oh no. before draco could continue.

“It’s not bad, I promise.” Scorpius’ shoulders dropped with a quiet okay. “Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny is a girl kitten.”

“So?”

“Should she be Mr. Bunny’s Sister Miss Bunny?”

“That’s a silly name, Papa.” Scorpius shook his head at his father, picked up the kitten who was nosing at the rim of the empty cereal bowl. “You’re silly.”

What had he been thinking, imposing gender specific words on a kitten. Such as Sister and Miss. He rolled his eyes and went back to bed.

A few minutes later (or was it several hours?) Scorpius climbed under the sheets, his bare toes like 10 tiny ice cubes against Draco’s calves. “What time is it?” Draco mumbled into his pillow.

“The big hand is on the 9 and the little hand is on the 9. They’re kissing, Papa.”

Draco groaned and remembered the wonderful Sunday morning lie-ins before he was a father. “Could we please lay here for a few more minutes before we start the day?”

"Would you tell me a story?" It sounded like a trade. More time in bed if he would agree.

Draco rolled on his side and Scorpius snuggled in next to him. He fit perfectly against Draco's shoulder, his head tucked under Draco's chin.

"Once upon a time, the exquisitely handsome Prince made a new best friend. We had known each other since they were young boys to school."

"Hogwarts?" Scorpius tilted his head back to look up into his father's face.

"Possibly. Stop interrupting. The Prince was very choosy about who could be his friend. He was _very_ powerful and _**very**_ handsome so of course everyone wanted to be his BFF. Except one boy, who didn't even want to talk to the Prince. He didn't even like the Prince."

"Was he mean?"

"Sometimes. In the beginning. By the time they were adults he had saved the Prince’s life. And the Prince said “Thank you” and took him out for dinner.  And it turned out that it wasn't the right thank you at all."   

For 5 years, Draco hadn't dated anyone. He'd been focused on his son. But Draco had a plan now. Well, not a plan. Like, the skeleton of a plan. Ok. he really just had a goal. But he needed to find a way to tell Scorpius that he would be dating men. "So, the Prince gave his new friend a hug and then he kissed him like people in love do. And they became best friends."  


"Yucky!" Scorpius shivered with his entire body.

"Why is it yucky?" Which in Draco's mind loosely translated into _who is teaching you homophobic shit?_  

"Because Poppa. Kissing is yucky. It's all wet, and it hurts."

Draco caught his breath. That sounded bad. Really bad. "What do you mean?"

"Mr. Bunny's Brother Mr. Bunny kissed me on my face, and it felt yucky. His tongue was all rough and hurty."

Draco laughed in relief. “When you find someone you love, kissing is nice."

"Did the Prince love his new best friend?"

"Very much. The end."

"Did they live happily ever after?"

Draco swallowed hard. He didn't know how to even answer that. “Go get dressed, Stinger. We have a meeting in Diagon Alley, today.”

With a woot! Scorpius jumped off the bed and ran to his room.

Alone now, Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on the happiest memory he had of him and Scorpius. “Expecto Patronum!” He conjured his Patronus, a beautiful swan. He added the message, “Blaise, can you meet me at noon at your office? I need advice.”

Almost immediately, a golden retriever Patronus bounded up to him and said, “Will do.” Draco checked the clock. He had time for a shower and to check that Scorpius wore only 1 pair of pants and at least 1 pair of socks.

~*~

Draco and Scorpius took the Floo Network to the public exit at The Leaky Cauldron and passed through the pub crowded with holiday shoppers. Hand in hand, they walked the length of Diagon Alley, stopping to look in store windows. With each shop, Scorpius added more to his growing list of Must Have Gifts.

“I think the first thing you’ll need is a quill charmed to write as you talk.” Draco smiled after his son reeled off a split second listing of 20 books in the window of Flourish & Blotts that he had to have.

They snaked their way through the crowds that blocked the street and arrived at the building next to Gringott’s. As the bank’s clock struck noon, Blaise Zabini opened the building’s door from the inside and led them through the empty waiting area for his law firm’s office and down hallways, until he welcomed them to his private office that overlooked bustling Diagon Alley.

Draco set Scorpius up with crayons and a coloring book and then cast a Muffliato so that he and Blaise could speak candidly. For the first time since he found out himself, Draco revealed the circumstances surrounding Scorpius conception and birth.

Blaise remained silent. He’d been leaning against the desk, but when Draco finished speaking, he circled the desk and dropped into his chair.

“Merlin’s Beard, Draco. I knew your father was a fucking piece of work, but this is too much.” Blaise tapped his quill, and tiny dots of ink splattered on the papers strewn atop the desk.

Draco withdrew a sheath of papers from the inside pocket of his warm, winter robes. He slid them across to Blaise. “I need to make sure that no one else has any claim to Scorpius except Harry. Not my father. Not the Greengrass family.”

Blaise studied the legal documents then looked up. “Harry isn’t included in here anywhere. Do you want me to execute a new set?”

Draco’s stomach lurched, because yeah. That was the question, wasn’t it? “Let me figure out a way to tell him. I don’t want him finding out through some gossip column.”

“That makes sense, Draco. As far as I can tell, they are legally sound. But let me do some research into precedents regarding magical pregnancies. Since the office is closed today, I can power through this and get you an answer later today.”

Draco cancelled the Muffliato spell, and he and Scorpius were on their way home. But not before stopping at Magical Menagerie for some toys for Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny.


	9. The Rainbow Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early Bird Prompt 
> 
> Draco works out a plan with his therapist for telling Harry. And there are rainbow pants. I ain't even sorry. It had to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

For Scorpius, Sunday afternoon passed in a whirl of hand-drawn Christmas lists and grudgingly completed homework interspersed with kitten wrestling.

For Draco, Sunday afternoon dragged as he watched the windows and the Floo for some word from Blaise. He lay on the couch in the lounge as Scorpius took over the coffee table with his work. Occasionally, MBBMB ( _ok, that isn’t working either. I’m going with BunnyKitty_.) padded too close to the edge, and Draco’s hand shot out to catch the fearless kitten before she hit the ground.

His brain churned with questions and situations that had to be worked through. As a good therapist, Draco acknowledged that he couldn’t do this alone. He owl’d his therapist, who cleared her Monday afternoon schedule without question for her oldest friend. In turn, Draco owl’d apologies to his own patients for cancelling their appointments for the next day.

As Draco tucked Scorpius in bed after his dinner and a bath, a Tawny Owl tapped at the window. Bracing himself, Draco eased the window open and Blaise’s owl hopped in, bringing freezing wind and snowflakes.

“Thank you for coming out in this weather, Flynn.” Draco searched his pockets for anything to offer as a treat and fished out an owl nut. Flynn nipped Draco’s finger in thanks and once he was warm enough, he flew back into the snowy night.

Scorpius rolled on his side, snuggling Mr. Bunny to him with one hand and with the other, reached up to pet the kitten who’d settled in to sleep next to Scorpius’ head. “Papa, can you tell me more about the Prince?”

Draco watched Scorpius fight the sleep that would eventually win. “The Prince and his best friend had wonderful adventures. One day they slipped away from The Prince’s guards and Floo’d to Diagon Alley. And the first shop they visited was Magical Menagerie.”

“We went there today, Papa.” Scorpius mumbled into Mr. Bunny’s head. “Mr. Bunny said he’s glad that Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny lives with us.”

Draco stroked his son’s hair, wild and wavy and always sticking up no matter how many times he combed it. “The Prince was very happy to be in the shop, but his Best Friend sneezed. And sneezed again. And kept sneezing. People looked at him. The creatures looked at him. But the Prince figured out the problem. A tiny kitten, just the size of BunnyKitty had climbed onto his shoulder, and the kitten took a bath while Har—his Best Friend sneezed. The Prince put the kitten back in its basket and made sure that his friend left the store. And once they were outside, the Prince used his wand and vacuumed his friend clean. No more sneezes.”

Scorpius yawned and said, “It’s a good thing the Prince and his Best Friend don’t live with BunnyKitty. G’niiiii…”

“Good night, love.”

Sigh.

Draco grabbed the sheath of papers that Flynn had delivered and cleared the dinner table to make room for legal documents, lists, and tea. Most importantly, tea. This was going to take a significant amount of caffeine.

According to the note on top of the legal documents, no one else had a claim to Scorpius. The loophole that Lucius had tried to slip past everyone that created the possibility of custodial care for the grandparents was poorly crafted. “I could fly a charmed Muggle truck through the holes in it,” Blaise wrote.

“In digging, I did find a legal document listing Astoria Greengrass as having given birth in 2010 and then signing away all parental rights to the unnamed birth father. Attached to it was a document signed by a member of the Wizengamot allowing for the obliviation of Ms. Greengrass.”

Draco read the Wizard’s name; yep, a long-time friend of Lucius. He didn’t know whether to feel disgusted or relieved knowing he’d had a member of the Wizengamot in his pocket. But at least, Draco alone had claim to Scorpius. He pushed the legal documents aside, and took up his quill and parchment.

He tapped the feather against his chin, trying to reason through all the changes he had to make, the truths he needed to tell.

_1\. Explain to HP_  
_2\. Introduce Scorpius to his…dad {Draco broke down, biting his lips to keep from crying or vomiting. How had it come to this.}_  
_3\. Why did I keep Scorpius from HP so long (will HP be able to forgive me)_  
_4\. Create a schedule to share Scorpius with HP_  
_5\. Tell Mother_  
_6\. Never speak to Lucius again._

Strictly speaking, #6 didn’t belong on this list and he absolutely did not need a visual reminder. It just made Draco feel really good to read it.

~*~

Draco crouched down and tucked Scorpius’ curls under his winter hat. He had a specific time to Floo on school days, eliminating the exit crowding that had caused monumental delays in the early days. “Monday night pizza take out or eat in?”

“Eat in!” Scorpius danced on the spot, stomping his wellies to hear them squeak. “Can BunnyKitty come too?”

Draco pushed Scorpius into the Floo, with a stern no, a pinch of the green Floo powder, and school! Scorpius was gone in the swirling flames. Draco had from noon until 3 to sort this mess out.

~*~

“Draco Malfoy.” Pansy Parkinson greeted him as he stepped out of her private Floo and brushed ashes from his shoulder. She looked stunning, of course, in her Saint Laurent sandals and bespoke suit. “I haven’t seen you in so long, and you’re supposed to buy the next round! Look at you!”

Pansy held him out at arm’s length. “You look—like shite.”

Draco sniggered at her trademark honesty. “Please, Pans. Don’t hold back next time.”

She shrugged. He knew who she was and he loved her, either for it or in spite of it.

For the three hours, Draco sat on her leather sofa (or crouched on it, or lay on it, or left it to pace the room) and discussed everything. Confronting his father, seeing the truth in his mother, Harry. Scorpius. Astoria.

He pulled the parchment list out of his front pocket, the ink smudged from his sweat and the heat of the Floo. Slowly, he talked his way through the list as Pansy nodded and added her thoughts.

“Nothing matters until you tell Harry the truth.” Pansy grabbed Draco’s hands to stop them from unfolding and refolding the list. “And, petal, you’re going to have to explain why you didn’t tell him sooner.”

Draco nodded and grabbed another tissue. “I’ll ask Mother to meet me for tea, and I will tell her what I am planning to do. Then I’ll ask her to watch Scorpius so that I can speak with Harry alone. If he has any interest in meeting Scorpius, I’ll arrange that.”

“You have between now and the day you speak to Potter to figure out why you never went to him. And you’re the only one who knows that answer.”

As Draco rose to leave, Pansy pulled him to her. “Scorpius is a great kid, just like his Papa.”

“How did I fuck this up so bad, Pans?” Draco rested his forehead on her shoulder.

“Sometimes, Draco, life fucks us up. And we do the best we can to fix it. All you can do is your best. And that is enough. Potter can choose to listen or not. Act or not. Love or not. But those are his choices. And I will remind you that You. Are. Enough. Whether he comes around or not.”

Draco kissed her cheek. “If I didn’t practice in London, I would definitely say you are the best therapist here.”

She smacked his ass and sent him through the Floo just in time to meet Scorpius at home.

~*~

Later that evening, after they stuffed themselves on pizza, Scorpius and Mr. Bunny convinced Draco to take them to the cinema for an encore showing of _Paddington_. But the movie ended past Scorpius’ bedtime, and Draco carried a mostly-asleep Scorpius the few blocks home.

The Muggle motorcycle was parked in front of Draco’s terrace home. Draco’s stomach flipflopped, and he tried to convince himself that it was the anchovies on his pizza. He wasn’t ready yet. He couldn’t tell Harry tonight.

With wandless magic, Draco unlocked the front door and a wave of heat hit him. Damn Muggle furnace. He had no idea how to _relight the pilot_ and was too often freezing. Obviously, tonight, something had gone wrong in the other direction.

He took Scorpius to his room and lowered him into bed, displacing BunnyKitty who was seriously unhappy and hissed. Draco hissed bigger and louder, and the kitten backed away.

Draco removed his son’s hat, winter robes, and shoes before tucking him in.

He closed Scorpius’ door and decided he would say something nice to Harry. Not sooo nice that it made him suspicious. Just nice enough to perhaps crack the ice. Not that there would be much ice in a house that had to be close to 32 degrees.

He shrugged off his own winter robe on the way to the kitchen. Maybe he’d offer Harry a tea or—well, not hot cocoa because it was freakin’ sweltering in here. Lemonade?

Maybe just a glass of ice wat—“Holy Fuck.”

Working at baseboard level, Harry half-crouched/half-leaned. Stripped shirtless. Sweat beading on his shoulders.

And peeking out from the waistband of Harry’s jeans were rainbow pants. Not just any rainbow pants, but the ones Draco’d bought him to commemorate the time they’d fucked in the 4-star restaurant’s bathroom. Well. The first time.


	10. I Can't Forget You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt Gryffin Tat 
> 
> Harry is hot, literally and figuratively. With the furnace broken, harry's too hot, so he takes his shirt off, and draco stares and thinks. And invites Harry out for a harmless coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you have my word of honor that this is all going to work out (((hands out chocolate to ward off the feels)))

Draco’s voice strangled a “Holy Fuck.”

Harry.

Stripped shirtless in the tropical heat of the house.

Sweat beading on his shoulders.

Between his shoulder blades.

Harry turned at the sound, his muscles shifting and he smiled tentatively. “You’re back.”

Draco’s stomach fluttered with each ripple, and his mouth hung open at the sight. He couldn’t speak. Even if he’d known what to say, he didn’t have the ability. His mind filled in its silence. _The muscles of the back are complex but divisible into 3 groups: The Superficial layer, the Intermediate layer, and the Deep layer._

“It’s fucking hot in here.” Harry stood up, a goofy half-grin on his face. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind.” As Harry waved in the general direction of his bare chest, Draco’s eyes were drawn to Harry’s forearm.

Merlin’s fucking balls. A gryffin tattoo covered it from elbow to wrist. Draco wanted to trace each of its lines with his finger. His nose. The tip of his tongue. Draco couldn’t pull his eyes away.

If Harry noticed Draco staring, he didn’t say anything. “When I got here, it was even hotter. I had the windows open for a bit.”

Harry’s voice startled Draco, who tried to focus on what Harry said. But Harry’s developed pecs. The text-book perfect division of his abdomen. His jeans and pants rode low enough on his hips that Draco saw the well-defined pelvic V. Very well defined.

_Multiple layers create the V-muscle: the Tranversus Abdominis, the Obliquus Internus Abdominis, and the Obliquus Externus Abdominis._

“But then it was this weird hot-and-cold, and that just made me have to pee. So I just took my shirt off.”

_When did Harry look like this?_

Harry shoved his wand in his back pocket, then grabbed his white vest from the counter and wiped his chest with it. “Do you think I could have a glass of—”

“Water.” Draco’s voice squeaked out the sound. He coughed to clear his throat, and tried again. “Would you like a water?”

“That would be great, thank you.” Harry leaned against the counter, an ease that hadn’t been there the prior week.

Draco could feel Harry’s eyes on him. He didn’t even know how to start a conversation, but if he didn’t figure it out soon, these facts from Healer training would spill from him with no way to get them back.

_The eye has six muscles in the orbit or eye socket that attach to the eye to move it up/down, side/side, and rotate._

He handed Harry a water bottle from the fridge, the condensation forming almost immediately from the drastic temperature change. Harry took the bottle with a hesitant thanks and held it up to his cheek to cool himself. “Did you call a service man?”

“Huh?”

“Someone to look at your furnace? I can try, but I don’t know much.” Harry drained the bottle in two gulps.

Draco watched Harry’s Adam’s apple bob, up and down, as his throat worked. That, combined with the pecs and the abs and the pelvic V. He was so fucked.

Harry twisted the thin plastic into a tight spiral. “Takes up less room in the recycling bins,” Harry said, holding the bottle up for inspection. When Draco didn’t respond with more than a gape, Harry mumbled, “I thought maybe you were living like a Muggle.” He placed the empty bottle and its cap on the table and pulled his wand out of his pocket. “The curses are responding well. I probably won’t be here as often til the new moon.”

“That’s—yeah that’s good. It already feels safer here.” _Fuckfuckfuck, that sounds like I’m talking about him._ “I mean, I can sense the difference as I walk through the house. Like it’s stopped fighting me.” Draco wanted to crawl into a cabinet just to get away.

Harry smiled and turned back to the wall, bending over to tap his wand a few centimeters above the baseboard. His lips moved as he cast counter-spells in silence.

Draco stared at Harry’s arse, the rainbow pants easily visible. Always fit, Harry was even more so now. Draco looked down at his own body. Still rail thin and wiry. At least he didn’t have a pot belly like some of the other dads at the park.

“Malfoy. I—uh.” Harry had stopped working and stared at his wand that he twirled between his fingers.

Then Harry stood and looked at Draco. He’d forgotten the beauty of Harry’s eyes, the color of shoots pushing up through the snow. Draco usually equated them with hope and love. Now they were just—green.  
“I owe you an apology. I’ve been—well, I’ve been a dick.” Harry dropped his wand to the table and then smiled tentatively, as if he were offering just enough to see if Draco would accept it. “I thought about a lot of stuff over the weekend. You were mature enough to ask me to do this work. I can at least not be a dick. So, uh. Sorry.”

Harry extended his right hand to shake Draco’s. And Draco stared again at the Gryffin tattoo.

Draco thought about the cartoons Scorpius watches on the telly. “ _Does. Not. Compute. Does. Not._ ” His arm stuttered, then he took Harry’s. It was like being home. The soft palm and the calloused fingers—Harry was never willing to wear gloves when he gardened or worked in his woodshop. The familiar, cinnamon-and-sage scent of Old Spice aftershave that he always bought at Tesco’s.

It all grabbed him by the balls and sucker punched him.

“Yeah, I—I wanted to say I’m sorry, too.” Draco smiled and enjoyed the moment without sniping. Maybe he could mention Scorpius.

And Harry sneezed, shattering the peace. And sneezed. And again.  
“I don’t know why—” Harry couldn’t finish the sentence because of the sneezing.

_Shit. Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny’s fur must be all over his jumper. Shit._ Draco searched his potions cabinet for an unlabeled, blue bottle. He pushed big and small bottles out of the way. Green and clear bottles. _Shit._

Draco ran down the hall to the master bathroom and when he returned, handed the bottle to Harry. “Swig it. It’ll help.”

Harry stared at Draco, as if their fragile truce depended on Harry trusting Draco at this moment. “If you’re poisoning me {sneeze}, I swear Malfoy {sneeze, sneeze} I will come back from the grave and haunt you {sneeze}.” Harry gulped down some of the chili-peppery water and within seconds stopped sneezing.

“What the hell, Malfoy? I’m only allergic to cats. Did you bring, like, a fucking lion home?”

BunnyKitty chose that moment to patter down the hallway. She stopped, assessed them and found them wanting, and then dug her pinpoint claws into Draco’s trousers to begin climbing straight up.

Draco pulled her off his thigh and plopped her onto Harry’s t-shirt on the counter. “Meet Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny. The lion making you sneeze. Or,” he raised an eyebrow at Harry. “That _made_ you sneeze.”

“Hey. I’m not sneezing. That potion is wild.” Harry picked the bottle up and examined it for a brand name.

Draco smiled broadly. “It’s one of mine. I doctor existing potions. This was Pepper-Up originally.”

Harry reached his finger out to the kitten who swatted it with her kitten claws. “Friendly guy, isn’t he.”

“She. Narcissa bought her for Scorpius, even though I’ve told her innumerable times that I can’t have a cat because—” Draco stopped before he revealed too much. With a hard swallow, he finished. “Because my patients may be allergic. And I can’t legally dose them with my own potion. You, on the other hand…”

Harry laughed. “Yeah. If I die, I’m just another single bloke down on my luck.”

Draco summoned whatever courage he could and blurted, “Do you think, you know, since you said you wouldn’t be here that often, you might want to grab a coffee one night?” Draco’s heart hammered at the thought of starting this with Harry. Telling about his son, and maybe sharing time with Scorpius together.

Without answering, Harry picked up BunnyKitty and placed her on the floor. He shook any fur off his vest, and dragged it over his head. Draco’s eyes followed the muscles on the side of Harry’s chest wall— _the Serratus Anterior_ —and felt light and happy for the first time in forever. Harry pulled the vest over his chest and pushed it into the waistband of his jeans before he looked up again.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Harry smiled sadly and picked up his wand. Without an explanation, he returned to work.

Draco couldn’t breathe.

The air. It was just—gone. Out of his lungs. Out of the room. Draco turned and almost stepped on the kitten who’d decided to go exploring. He stumbled out of the kitchen toward his own room.

“Hey, since the cat is a fixture now, can I take that potion with me?” Harry called up the hallway.

Draco used every last bit of dignity to keep his voice emotionless. “Sure. I’ve got a bunch more.”

He closed his bedroom door. Locked it. Resisted throwing himself on the bed. Instead Draco lay flat on his back, stared at the ceiling, and reminded himself that tonight hadn’t been part of the plan.

Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan.

He focused on anything other than the overwhelming loneliness and despair he felt. Like trying to fix the furnace. And trying to remember the ingredients for the allergy potion, because that was his last bottle.

_It would be so nice to have amnesia._ Because he tried to forget Harry’s stupid tattoo. And his stupid rainbow pants that Draco had bought. And his stupid, fucking, hot body.

But Harry was the opposite of amnesia.


	11. Welcome to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets Narcissa in a popular tea room to tell her his plans for speaking with Harry. And then Harry shows up there, and not alone.
> 
> based on the prompt: Tea 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life prevailed yesterday. You get two today.
> 
> BIG angst in this fic. The angst is drawing to a close. pinky promise.
> 
> Oops. Original post had HP hair color wrong. TYSM to pureImaginatrix!!

Every night that week, Draco noticed each creak as the house settled, each crackle and pop of the fire. He waited for Harry to return and dreaded it, because he was beyond mortified at having read the situation so. damn. wrong.

But the…friendly.

And the pants.

And the bare chest.

And the _pants._

Draco replayed the moments in the kitchen over and over. What part had he misread? In the end, it didn't matter. Harry had said he didn’t want to be a dick. Pants are just pants. And the furnace had been broken.

But that was the thing. The furnace _wasn’t_ broken. Draco had fallen asleep in the swelter, but at 3am he woke up shivering. The next morning, the temperature in the house was back to normal.

Draco wanted to talk to Harry. Wanted to know why he had said no. Wanted to apologize for overstepping their new truce. Wanted to talk to Harry. But he resisted owling. As a therapist, Draco knew that reaching out to him would be disastrous. Harry set parameters, and Draco had to comply. But, his desire to speak to Harry didn’t fade. True to his word, Harry Potter didn’t return.

Draco wrestled a dragon, a bear, a platypus ( _A platypus?!_ ), and a dinosaur into the tub each night and then into pyjamas. He told his son and his squad ( _No, I don’t know what squad goals you and Mr. Bunny and BunnyKitty have concocted. Where do you even hear these things?_ ) bedtime stories based on who Scorpius pretended to be. And each time Scorpius asked about The Prince and His Best Friend, Draco dodged the question.

On Friday night, before Draco tucked in the platypus, the rabbit and the cat, he spoke directly to The Squad.

“We have new squad goals for tomorrow, you two. Scorpius and I are meeting Grand-mère for tea. Unfortunately, the restaurant frowns upon—” Draco paused to air quote the next word. “— _animals_ being in their restaurant unless they’re on a plate.”

Draco waited a beat, and said, “Don’t even start, Mr. Bunny. I tried. I even asked politely. But unless you want to turned into a Welsh Rabbit, you need to stay home.”

Scorpius giggled, knowing no actual rabbits were harmed in the making of Welsh Rabbit, but he thought it was probably best that Mr. Bunny didn’t know. And Draco winked theatrically to seal the silence.

“Grand-mère and I have some things to discuss and unfortunately, Aunt Millie is ill and can’t stay with you tomorrow. So, it’s our finest robes and our finest manners.”

Scorpius nodded solemnly. “Or else she’ll turn _us_ into Welsh Rabbit!”

And Draco didn’t doubt that for a moment.

~*~

Draco stepped out of the Floo inside the most upscale tea room in Wizarding London. He turned back to the fireplace and, as Scorpius fell through, Draco reined him in long enough to brush ashes off of his shoulders. Draco looked him over, and then licked his thumb and cleaned a smudge from Scorpius’ face.

He kept Scorpius in place while he tidied himself and searched for Narcissa. On a Saturday two weeks before Christmas, the tea room overflowed with holiday shoppers chatting about Christmas plans and perfect gifts.

Narcissa saw them first and rose from her seat. She looked sophisticated as she always did. Draco caught her eye and wrangled Scorpius through the too close, too noisy, too smelly crowd, as Scorpius pointed out. Women's perfumes, savory sandwiches, sweet desserts. Scorpius was close to sensory overload. His formal robes pulled because he’d outgrown them. His tie pinched his neck until Draco had agreed to loosen the knot. Luckily, Draco had given in on the Mr. Bunny issue; having that sense of safety would help Scorpius cope.

“There are my two handsome young men.” Grand-mère greeted them with brief hugs and small kisses and then motioned for them to be seated. She raised an eyebrow at the stained and worn rabbit clutched in Scorpius’ arms. “I see your stuffed animal is joining us.”

Draco pushed his son’s chair in toward the table and whispered for him to put the napkin on his lap. “Mother, Mr. Bunny provides a sense of security and continuity. This is non-negotiable. Please.”

Draco sat next to Scorpius and adjusted his chair, unfolded his napkin, and placed it on his lap. He used the time to center himself. He hadn’t invited her to lunch to carp.

Narcissa ordered for them, several pots of tea, a platter of tiny sandwiches, and raspberry scones and clotted cream especially for Scorpius. Draco allowed her to control the conversation as they ate, discussing friends and neighbors and upcoming events. To Draco’s relief, she refrained from mentioning Lucius.

He finished his tea and the last bite of his sandwich; he couldn’t postpone the conversation any longer. “Mother, I have something to discuss.”

Narcissa looked at her plate, but when she looked up, her eyes were narrow and hard. It confused Draco, who had no intention of starting an argument. _Ah…_ “This isn’t about—Father. That isn’t why I’ve asked you here.”

Immediately, Narcissa’s jaw relaxed, and she almost smiled. She offered a small nod of thanks.

“Hey!” Scorpius shouted and pointed, interrupting the adults.

And at that moment, the Gates of Hell opened and unleashed chaos.

Draco leaned over and shushed Scorpius with a glare. Narcissa leaned to whisper that _polite young men didn’t shout common words such as hey_.

Scorpius wiggled his chair backward, trying to escape from the table. “Hi, Mr. Potter! Hi! How come you didn’t come to our house this week?” His high, pure voice carried across the restaurant, over the hum of the adults and the clatter of utensils and tea cups.

Draco froze. Slowly, slowly, he looked over his shoulder to the restaurant’s front door, and two thoughts seared him.

First, Draco had never seen Harry look as _exquisite_. Muggle clothes in Diagon Alley. Daring. The jeans were snug and well-worn. A wrinkled business shirt, unbuttoned and thrown on as an afterthought over a Muggle rock band t-shirt. It looked like Harry had just rolled out of bed, picked up clothes from the floor and thrown them on. His hair was a mess, curls wild, like fingers had run through it, pull it, petted it. And. From across the restaurant, Draco could see the love bite sucked onto his neck.

Second, Harry wasn’t alone.

A truly beautiful man had wrapped himself around Harry. He could have stepped out of a seaside tourism poster. More bronze than a person should be in December. Everything about him was perfect. His white teeth when he laughed at whatever Harry whispered. His golden-platinum fringe falling into his eyes, only to be carelessly flicked away. He pulled Harry to him and snogged him. In front of all of these people.

“Oh my word.” Narcissa stared at the scene the men made. “ _He_ isn’t British. We—we just don’t do that. They shouldn’t have left their bedroom.”

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

The clothes. The hair. His mother was right. They’d left bed long enough to get food. Draco’s heart fractured, and whatever dream-future he’d deluded himself to believe could possibly exist, exploded.

 _Not in public. Not in public. Keep it together_. Draco almost laughed out loud when his mind helpfully supplied lyrics from the stupid movie Scorpius watched on auto-replay. _Conceal, don’t feel._

Although for Draco it had felt like forever, Scorpius’ words had just reached Harry. He looked around to see who had called out; when he finally realized, he tried to disentangle himself from the blond. Harry whispered and pointed to the door, but the blond dragged Harry across the restaurant to their table.

“Harry. This boy must be one of your fans.” The blond smiled at them and then at Harry. “You should say hi!”

_An American. Of course. The false familiarity. The hair. The public snogging._

Harry looked horrified to be standing at their table. He finally acknowledged them with a short nod. “Mrs. Malfoy. Malfoy.”

Draco’s rote manners took over. He stood in haste to shake hands, but his chair toppled to the floor. Anyone who hadn’t been staring before, stared now.

“Harry, you know them?” His friend turned and flashed a smile at Harry. He slid one arm around Harry’s waist. “Introduce us.”

Harry looked at Draco’s son. Studied him.

The friend waited, but Harry hadn’t heard him.

“Chad. Chad Briar. From California.” Another brilliant smile and a handshake. “You must be old friends. We met online.” Chad’s hand drifted down to rest on Harry’s arse. “We decided to see if we’re, you know, _compatible._ ” His voice was thick with the innuendo. Chad hooked a finger under Harry’s chin for a quick kiss, and when Harry frowned and pulled away, Chad playfully spanked Harry’s arse.

 _Oh my fucking Merlin_. Draco could smell the Old Spice and sex on both of them. He thought it even-money that he would vomit right here.

Draco gritted his teeth and swallowed, hoping to settle his stomach. “I’m Draco Malfoy. Potter and I attended school together. My mother, Mrs. Malfoy. And my son, Scorpius.”

Chad waved a hello with wiggled fingers, but when he smiled at Scorpius, he stopped and pointed. “Wow, Harry. That kid’s hair is wild, too. Like, if it was black, it’d look exactly like yours.” Chad continued to talk, but no one listened.

Harry blinked rapidly, turned on his heels, and walked out of the tea room. They heard the door of the tea house slam shut.

Chad stuttered some apology and took off after Harry.

Draco collapsed in his chair and dropped his head into his hands.

Narcissa returned to her seat. She unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap. She brushed every wrinkle out of the napkin, and when she could breathe again, she asked her waitress for another pot of tea.


	12. I Dreamed a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt 
> 
> Draco sends Harry a message and asks to meet so Draco can explain everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a wee short, but in truth, i never would have separated this from 11 if it hadn't been for the pic prompt. xoxo
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH for the comments and the love. you have no idea how much it means. REALLY. 
> 
>  

Narcissa sat at the table, ignoring the stares from the people around them.

“Draco, darling.” Narcissa forced a smile as she hissed at Draco, who still cradled his head in his hands. “Get your elbows off the table, fake a smile, and for fuck’s sake, sit. up.”

The years of Malfoy training took over without conscious thought. Draco took a deep breath and blew it out. When he sat up, he held his head high and turned to his mother as if nothing had happened.

While Draco carried on a superficial conversation with her, his brain churned. _Harry would be furious that Draco had kept it from him. Why had he kept it secret. Would Harry forgive him. Could Harry forgive him. Would Harry reject their son. Harry was fucking someone. Was it serious. Would having a son change what Harry felt for **Chad Briar**. What kind of name was **Chad Briar**. Sounded like a fucking professional surfer._

“Did you just say _for fuck’s sake_?” A nervous laugh bubbled up from Draco.

Narcissa hissed, “Grow up, Draco. This is a nightmare.”

Scorpius, who sat between his father and grandmother, smiled as Grand-mère fussed at someone besides him. “Papa? Why was Mr. Potter rude? Doesn’t he know it’s not polite to stare? And he didn’t even say hello.”

Draco looked at his son and his green eyes.

Harry’s green eyes.

And knew exactly why Harry had stared.

Narcissa cut the conversation off. “Often, famous people such as Mr. Potter are quite busy. Finish your scone.”

Scorpius nodded and focused on his plate.

They sat in silence as both Narcissa and Draco settled their frazzled nerves.

Scorpius fed himself a piece of scone dripping with jam and licked his fingers. He smeared raspberry on his robe as a piece of the pastry missed his mouth. “Mr. Bunny says that my eyes are the same color as Mr. Potter’s.”

Draco pressed his lips between his teeth and nodded. “Yes, I had noticed that, also.” His heart slammed against his chest, not knowing what else Scorpius might say.

Scorpius dragged his fork through a dollop of cream on his plate then licked each tine with the point of his tongue. “Mr. Bunny also said that your eyes aren’t green.”  
Draco touched his mother’s shoulder. “Would you be willing to visit with Scorpius for a few hours tomorrow? Millicent is ill, which is why he’s with us today. I have an errand to run, and I’m a bit late.” Draco smiled wanly at Narcissa. “About five years late.”

Scorpius’ head popped up. “Hey! I’m five years old.” He smiled brightly at his Papa. “Are we almost done? I have to poop.”

Narcissa cringed and covered her face with her perfectly manicured fingers. “For all that is holy, Draco. Please instill some manners in this child.”

Draco laughed. “Yes, Mother.” He felt some tension drain from his shoulders, knowing that the worst would be over the next day.

~*~

Worn out from the afternoon of Christmas shopping, Scorpius fell asleep watching telly on the couch after dinner. Draco scooped him up and carried him to his bed. He silently thanked Harry for removing the tripping curse that had especially plagued this hallway.

Alone for the first time that day, Draco sat at the kitchen with his quill and parchment. Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny leapt up onto the table and sat on the blank paper. Draco picked her up with a stern no and put her back on the floor. Again, he picked her up, chastised her, and put her on the floor. The third time, Draco grumbled fuck it and BunnyKitty meowed triumphantly.

Draco wrote and scratched out and rewrote and corrected and crumpled and restarted. Too many times to count. Actually, _this_ version was number 11, based on the paper balls BunnyKitten chased.

In the end, Draco decided the less he said, the more likely Harry would be to show.

 

_Harry,_

_Obviously, there are things I need to explain that I should have told you five years ago. I would appreciate it if you would meet me at noon in the sitting area of Foxhill Manor in the Cotswolds. Strictly speaking, it’s not a Wizarding hotel. But the owner is a Wizard and longtime friend of my family’s, and he does provide an apparition point on site. I await your response._

_Draco_

 

He opened his owl’s cage and tied the note to Churchill’s leg. As Draco opened the window, he saw a dusting of small, fine snowflakes on the windowsill.

“Sorry, old chap.” And Draco sent the owl into the frigid night with the note.

At first, Draco busied himself in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and baking bread for Sunday’s breakfast. However, when the loaf was baked, cooled, and declared delicious by Draco—and Churchill still hadn’t returned—Draco decided to turn in.

He sat in his bed, plush pillows behind him, a cup of tea next to him, and a copy of Catcher in the Rye that he struggled to finish. His chin dipped to his chest then bobbed back up as he woke, until he finally gave in. He dozed with his novel tented on his chest and his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

A plink-plink-plink woke Draco. Churchill tapped on the window, his feathers clumped with snow. With a bath towel, Draco dried the feathers as much as Churchill would allow before flying to a perch near the bedroom fireplace.

_Harry hadn’t sent a return message._

Draco went back to bed, took off his glasses, and turned off the light. He pulled the cover up to his chin, but in the end, drew it over his head and hid beneath it.

That night, he dreamed he was a student at Hogwarts. He laughed with Crabbe and Goyle. Ate food that someone else prepared. Slept in a bed that someone else made. Aced his exams without opening a book.

And had never been in love with stupid Harry Potter.


	13. We Keep This Love in This Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early bird prompt: snowy window 
> 
> Harry meets Draco to talk about their son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed Sunday and Monday. Still moving forward I'm posting (from my phone) with even less beta than usual.

Draco chose noon because he’d assumed the busy lobby would afford them privacy. He apparated early and strode into the sitting area, hoping to find a seat without too much trouble.

Draco entered the room and sighed. Counting himself, that made 1 person in the sitting area. He chose the wingback closest to window and watched the fine snow fall. This storm had already left a foot of snow; he had no idea how much more it might bring before it ended.

The mantle clock chimed the hour, then the quarter hour. 12:15. He watched the hotel’s foyer. Occasionally a few guests would wander down to the lobby, see the snow, and change their minds about a woodsy walk.

When the clock chimed the half-hour, Draco motioned for the server. He needed a clear head to talk to Harry, but a drink would grant him liquid courage. The server returned with his two fingers of Talisker single malt, neat.

How long should he wait? With no return note, Draco had no assurance Harry would show. But Harry had waited five years. Draco would wait a little longer. He gulped his whisky and relished the burn, as if he deserved the pain.

Draco watched the snow and wind form redoubts on the wide windowsill, providing the fat winter thrush shelter from the cold. The smudge of red feathers on its breast reminded him of Scorpius’ cheeks when they play in the snow, wind-burned but joyous. “You seem happy, bird. Did you ever do something monumentally stupid?”

“Like talking to birds through window?”

Draco turned to Harry, who’d arrived without announcement. Draco smiled hesitantly. “Thank you for coming today. It means a lot to me that you would—”

“I’m not here for you.” Harry cut Draco off without hesitation. He ordered a black coffee in the largest mug the kitchen had, and the server scurried off in search of something bigger than their delicate tea cups.

Draco picked up his Talisker, but the whisky washed up the sides of the crystal. Harry watched Draco grasp the glass in both hands, hoping to stop the shaking.

“I’m sorry. I—I’m not here to be an asshole, either.” Harry pressed his hand atop Draco’s two. “Thank you for being willing to talk to me.”

Draco smiled a thank you. Not for what he said, but for trying to put Draco at ease. It didn’t work, but Harry’d tried.

They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the snow out the window. Harry warmed his hands on his coffee mug, content to simply be. Draco decided that Harry needed to set the pace, to ask what he needed to know.

“You know I had no idea. No one ever said anything to me. Not even Andromeda.” Harry didn’t look at Draco as he spoke. Instead, he followed two swans as they dropped from the cloudy sky to the lake that hadn’t fully frozen. The black and orange on their bills stood out in the snow that showed no signs of slowing. “I would have done the right thing.”

Draco lifted his glass and swallowed the last of the Talisker hard; the whisky had been such a bad choice as it churned in his stomach. “I wanted you to be with me because you wanted to be with me, not because of a sense of obligation.”

He couldn’t look at Harry as he spoke. These feelings were still white hot and raw, and the years hadn’t diminished the pain and the betrayal and the loss one bit. “I wouldn’t allow anyone to tell you. I forced my aunt to make an Unbreakable Vow. She told me I was wrong, even as the spell wound around our hands and arms. But she took it.”

Draco watched the swans’ heads dip beneath the water looking for food and, when they came back up, looked to make sure the other was still there. They played, flapping their wings to fling water at each other, oblivious to the snow. Maybe he and Harry were like that. They had been, they could have been. Could we still be.

Harry placed his mug on the table and waved off the server who approached with a refill. Eventually, he asked, “Do you have any pictures of Scorpius?” Harry hesitated, as if he weren’t sure how interested he should be.

Draco’s face brightened. He pulled his iPhone from the pocket of his blazer, tapped the screen several times, and held it out to Harry.

Harry smiled at Draco, who looked sheepish. “When you go native, you really go native.” Harry’s teasing held no heat; he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his own phone. “Texting is so much better than sending an owl or Patronus. Especially if I’m in a meeting and I just want to say something snarky.”

They laughed, almost comfortable with each other for the first time since Draco had contacted him for help.

“It is cute how Muggles think gifs are something special, though.” Draco swiped his phone screen and pointed. “That’s yesterday morning before we got to the restaurant. Scorpius hates dressing up, and I didn’t check his formal robes. Of course, he’d outgrown them. And the tie pinched his neck. But he was going to see his Grand-mère, so he was—okay.” Draco’s face clearly said it wasn’t okay, which made Harry laugh.

Another swipe.

Scorpius was down on all fours. “The school’s Christmas pageant last week. He was Third Sheep in the Nativity.”

“Well. That explains the—wooly jumper.” Harry laughed at the photo, Scorpius covered from neck to bottom in a thick, white, long-haired jumper. “Tell me about the school.”

Draco put the phone on the table and aligning it precisely with the edge of the table. _The first question of my parenting decisions, but we need to do this_. He looked up and explained with no apology in his voice. “It’s a Wizarding day school, but rather than a Muggle studies course, they infuse it into the curriculum. They use the telly and BBC to help teach. They wear Muggle uniforms so that, when they take field trips, they don’t stand out. The goal is to integrate the children into Muggle society so they themselves can bring that to our society.”

“Brilliant.” Harry leaned forward and nodded slowly. “We absolutely need to bring Wizard society into this century.”

Draco felt giddy at Harry’s approval. Like he had at Hogwarts when he’d beaten Granger’s score on a test. He scrolled through more pictures on the playground, in school, wearing mashed potatoes rather than eating them. He leaned closer to Harry. “As amazing as these phones are, they need more storage space for pictures. So, I—um—may have created an app for that.”

Draco tapped an icon and, like the bricks at the Diagon Alley entrance, the screen on the phone unfolded displaying more apps. He chose the photo icon and the screen filled with dozens of thumbnail folders.

He wouldn’t look at Harry as he opened the app. “These are from the day Scorpius was born.”

Harry took the phone and stared at picture after picture. This was Wizard technology, and the baby squirmed and cried. Harry could see the joy and the fear and the pain even if he couldn’t hear it. And the pure, unconditional love on Draco’s face as he held his son before little Scorpius had even been washed off.

The most remarkable feature on the baby was the dark hair, wild and wavy. Draco watched the realization play out in Harry’s eyes. Wide, then brows pinched, head tilted, then his lids dipped. Harry’s hand dragged at the corner of his eyes as he handed the phone back to Draco.

“He’s beautiful.” At first, Harry seemed conflicted, but when Harry smiled, Draco saw that he was hopeless.

“He looked like his Dad with that unruly hair and those green eyes. He already has girls lining up at school to be his best friend.” Draco grinned and placed his hand over Harry’s on the table.

I chose Scorpius because in Mythology, he reminded humans to curb their pride, and if there’s anything the Malfoys need is to curb their pride.” Draco laughed, but even to his own ears, the self-deprecating comment sounded meaner than he’d intended.

“I chose Hyperion for a middle name for two reasons. First, I know he’ll be bright like the sun.

“And when I write his name Scorpius H. Malfoy, I can fool myself that the H. stands for Harry.”


	14. Nothin' Concealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt: Mistletoe 
> 
> Harry and Draco finish their meeting, and Draco reveals what lucius did. And Chad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still catching up, but chugging along. Back to the hospital today for another round of fluid and antibiotics for the kid. but thank Goodness for paper and pencil and talk to text! Really REALLY not beta'd. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: suggestion of rape/dealing with, also homophobic language

Harry’s voice broke as he stared at the phone in his hands. “I didn’t know. I just—I should’ve—”

Draco shrugged, his voice heavy. “We both should have, Harry. Lucius started it, but we were asses.” He took the phone from Harry’s hands, but Harry reached out and covered Draco’s hand with his. Draco didn’t move in case it was a mistake; he didn’t want to lose Harry’s warmth, the feeling of protection.

Harry withdrew his hand slowly, his fingers sliding across Draco’s. Draco stifled a gasp as a picture flashed in his mind: lying in bed naked, Harry’s fingers dragging over each swell of Draco’s spine until he reached the curve of Draco’s arse and then traced the line of it—

Draco mewled, melting at the rush of emotion. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes; now he was afraid to open them, afraid Harry would mock him. Giving in, Draco opened them in time to see Harry’s tongue wet his lips as he sighed.

“I have a feeling this all comes down to one word. Lucius.” Harry said it with the solemnity of an Unforgiveable curse, like damnation and the evils of Hell. “Just tell me.”

“I don’t even know where to start, Harry.” Draco’s pinched lips formed a pained smile. Instead, he looked at the windowsill, at the bird protecting itself from the ugliness of the weather. Spring couldn’t come soon enough.

“Astoria isn’t in any of the pictures,” Harry said. “Did you delete those?”

“There aren’t any. I wasn't dating her. I never fucked her.” Draco didn’t turn his head from the window as he spoke. He couldn’t bear to see Harry reject the truth.

But he saw Harry’s reflection in the frosted pane; Harry’s jaw dropped but he quickly pulled it closed.

“Draco. Start. Don't edit. Don't spin. Just tell me what happened.” Harry folded his arms across his chest. Draco didn’t know if Harry were closing him out or simply trying to protect himself.

With a deep breath and a powerful wish for courage, Draco began without looking at Harry.

"I was never happier than I was with you. Even when we fought I didn’t mind, because I knew it was temporary because I loved you so damn much. I told Mother that I wanted to marry you in a Muggle ceremony, but she made me promise that I wouldn't ask you before she talked to Lucius. I never thought they would sabotage my life. Foolish of me. And because we did such a great job of keeping us quiet, we made it easy for Lucius.”

Harry couldn’t focus on anything except _“marry you.”_ He’d had no idea. They had been young and burned hot and fast; they’d never had the chance to let the flames settle into something slow and smoldering.

“Lucius begged me to go out with Astoria Greengrass in the hope that I would fall in love with her and produce an heir. He knew I was a _pillow biter. A shirt lifter_ —” Draco spoke with the fury of a new anger. “But he’d always assumed it was boys being boys, and I would grow up and Do The Right Thing.

“I agreed to go on one date with her. Two old friends having dinner. That’s what I told you. If I hadn’t lied to you, if I hadn’t lied to Lucius, none of this would have happened.” A sob escaped Draco as he covered his face with his hands. He’d been so weak, trying to make other people happy. Draco reached into his trouser pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his face.

Harry leaned forward, but then chose to sit back as if he’d changed his mind.

“Astoria was everything a straight wizard would want in a wife. Clever. Funny. Beautiful. She’d been told that our parents had arranged for us to be married, which was a thing in the pureblood families. I politely but firmly told her that I was already hopelessly in love. She was gracious, and we agreed to continue dinner as friends. She was easy to talk to. We’d been arguing about the integration of Muggle technology into Wizard society. I walked her home, and I remember her asking if I wanted to come in for a cup of tea.

“I woke up 8 hours later in my clothes, but it looked like I’d dressed in a rush. My shirt was misbuttoned and my trousers weren’t zipped. I had no idea why I was in her bed, or what had happened. I left as quickly as I could to come home.

“I felt dirty, like I couldn’t wash hard enough. Like there wasn’t enough soap. I stood in the shower until the hot water ran out and I tried to remember. Did we have sex? Did I force her? And still I didn’t tell you. Because I guess I thought, maybe it would all go away. I could bury it a little deeper and forget.

“Three weeks later, Lucius summoned me to The Manor. Astoria was sobbing and he was screaming. She said I’d forced her to have sex and now she was pregnant. What was I going to do about it. I stood up to him, Harry. I told him I wasn’t going to marry her and he could go fuck himself. He slapped me across my face for my insolence.”

Draco wiped his nose on his handkerchief that he’d balled up in his fist. For the first time since he began talking, Draco looked up at Harry. Tears flooded Harry’s eyes; the pain was as real for him as it was for Draco.

“Lucius screamed at me. I swear, he looked insane. That I was going to fucking grow up and take responsibility for what I’d done. Pay for what I’d done. And I told him to go fuck himself, and I disapparated before he could hit me again. I came back to our home…”

Harry tried to hide the tears on his cheeks, brushed them away with the sleeve of his jumper before he thought Draco could see. “I’d gotten an owl that afternoon. An anonymous letter saying that you were having an affair with Astoria and you’d gotten her pregnant. I’d always assumed it came from Rita Skeeter.”

“I couldn’t stop you,” Draco said. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“Everyone I’d loved had always left. My parents. Sirius. Dumbledore. I knew you would, too. It was a matter of time. And here was confirmation that I was right.”

Draco handed his damp handkerchief to Harry, who took it with a weak smile. “I said the most horrible things to you. Things I didn’t even believe. I just wanted to hurt you.”

Draco nodded. “And I thought I deserved it, because not only did I hurt you, I thought I as a rapist. You wouldn't answer my owls. And I couldn't get to you to talk. Granger and Weasley were admirable bulldogs. I didn't know what the truth was, but I didn't trust anyone. I met with Astoria, who seemed off somehow, but I assumed it was shit she was getting from her family for getting pregnant before she was married. We agreed that I would move in. I wanted to keep the baby safe, and she told her parents we had eloped.

“I didn't sleep with her Harry. I had my own room. And through all of it, I still hoped you and I could reconcile. That maybe, one day you could forgive me.” Draco had laced his fingers together and pressed and released and pressed and released.

“Astoria seemed odd. Distant. I assumed the stress and the lies combined with the pregnancy were wearing on her. We saw more of Lucius than I wanted to. He was so solicitous that, for a few months, I thought he might be father of the child.”

“But once Scorpius was born, and I looked at my son, I knew Lucius had fucking done something. She was in the bed exhausted from the delivery, and I’d slammed my father into the corner of the recovery room with my wand at his throat.” Draco’s anger was still like new, still raw.

“He laughed. He told me everything. He’d broken into our home and taken condoms from our waste bin, thinking they were mine only. He’d assumed I would be the top. One of his slimy friends had created a potion to reverse the spermicide and make the semen viable. He’d drugged me, imperius Astoria and magically impregnated her with my spunk.”

Harry gasped out a what the fuck, but Draco didn’t stop.

“That day, we all knew that Scorpius was yours. He laughed at me and said, _You’re even a fucking weak faggot. Rolling over for Potter. Not man enough to fuck him_. I broke his nose. Right there in the recovery room.”

This time, Harry did reach out for Draco. He took Draco’s right hand and held it as it shook. Draco smiled and without thinking, he used his left hand to push an errant curl off Harry’s forehead.

“Lucius had imperiused Astoria for the duration of the pregnancy. He’d convinced her to sign away her parental rights, and then he obliviated her. And he managed to skirt the edge of illegal but found long hidden loopholes in Wizarding law. All because he wanted an heir.”

Harry sat back and Draco saw him clench his teeth. The vein throbbed in Harry’s jaw.

“Something in the potion to reverse the spermicide changed the science in a way I can’t explain, but Scorpius has both of our DNA. He’s got Malfoy coloring, the white-blond hair, my nose, the shape of my eyes. He’s got your curls and your green eyes. Your passion for life.”

Draco slumped back, exhausted by reliving the past. “I owled you and told you everything. But I never heard back. I assumed u were just too furious to answer.” He shrugged his shoulder. His gaze returned to the snowy pond, watching the two swans descend to the water again. Best mates.

When Harry spoke, his voice was so quiet that Draco missed the first few words. “—don't even know what to say, Draco. I'm so sorry. I never read them. Whenever the Prophet ran blind items about pureblood pregnancies, I’d get pissed off all over again. I was an idiot.”

They sat in silence, each trying to understand what the other had said. It seemed easier to watch the birds.

Harry cleared his throat. “They’re males, you know. The swans. They have the knob at the base of their beaks. Scientists have found homosexuality in all species but humans are the only ones who ostracize.”

A new server stopped at their small table. "May I get you refills?" She smiled pertly, with a tiny bounce of her head.

Draco snickered at her Santa hat, made of red corkscrew wire. Instead of a white pompon, at the top of her hat hung a sprig of mistletoe.

She smiled again. “Oh, my hat. I loan it to patrons at this time of the year. Would you like to borrow it, sir?"

Draco stuttered out an answer. “Oh we're not—I mean not really—I mean we were—”

“We aren’t quite at that point in our relationship.” Harry said it smoothly, and the server nodded and moved on.

Harry leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. “I was angry for so long, Draco. This is a lot to think about. But, God, I have a son.” Harry’s laugh burst out of him. “A son.”

“Yeah. You do. And he’s incredible, if I do say so myself.” Draco had half expected the absolute need to hold onto Scorpius and not let anyone in. But at this moment, he wanted to drag Harry back home and watch him fall in love with his son.

“If you’ll allow me to be, I want to be part of Scorpius’ life. But not like, hey hi I’m your dad.” Harry made his voice all deep and gruff, puffed out his chest to make Draco laugh.

“I know a decent Healer-Therapist. He probably has a few suggestions.”

_What was that? That lightness in Draco’s neck. In his shoulders. In his soul. The anger and pain slipped away, just enough that Draco could see a future where he might find happiness and possibly something more._

They agreed to finalize meeting details over text. And they both agreed they needed to discuss Astoria’s rights.

As they stood at the apparition site, Harry said, “So many details just never made sense and I had so many questions, but I couldn’t get past my fucking pride.” On impulse, he hugged Draco and lingered for a moment. “I understand now. And I can’t wait to meet Scorpius.”

Draco steeled himself and asked, “What about Chad? Will he be ok with you being an instant dad?”

“Chad’s gone. He was an idiot. Easy on the eyes, but everything was fucking surfing surfing surfing. Very few fucks are worth the person they come with. I’ve only met one or two.”

Draco grinned, suddenly very happy that Chad was a surfer. “I see.”

And before Harry spun on the spot to disapparate, Draco swore he heard “Actually, just one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out this article on gay animals : http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/explainer/2012/03/animals_and_homophobia_are_humans_the_only_species_that_discriminates_against_gays_.html


	15. Look At My Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt: 
> 
> Harry comes to dinner and meets Scorpius for the first time. And there's an epic kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm like the little engine who could. big kid is doing great. TY for asking :D

"Papa! Why are you cleaning? Is company coming?" Scorpius peeked around corner of the kitchen, watching Draco scour the counters. Papa’s fringe had fallen in front of his eyes, and he wrinkled up his nose to stop his glasses from sliding further.

Draco checked the time and cursed under his breath. "It’s almost time for dinner. Go wash up, please.” He threw the sponge into the sink then stripped off the elbow-length yellow plastic gloves. Draco pushed the fringe back from his forehead and tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket. What he needed was a quick shower, but he’d waited too long.

This is stupid, he thought as he dragged his jumper over his head. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. It’s not like Harry had never seen him before. But tonight felt new and special. Merlin, this was worse than a blind date.

Scorpius galloped up the hall, shouting to his friends. "Mr. Bunny! Mr. Bunny's Brother Mr. Bunny! We're having a dinner guest! No, I don't know if it's a date. I'll ask. Yes, you’re right. Wash first. Ask second."

Draco laughed because apparently, Mr. Bunny was a great friend and apparently had a good sense of how parents operated. Draco raised the lid on one of the pots and stirred the marinara sauce with meatballs. In the other, the water was ready to boil for spaghetti. He checked the buttery garlic bread heating in the oven. Good thing he wouldn’t be kissing anyone because he’d put an obscene amount of fresh garlic on the bread.

When the doorbell rang, Scorpius galloped back up the hall and beat Draco to the door, hollering I got it! I got it! Scorpius opened the door and stared in silence, his mouth comically open. Before Harry could say anything, Scorpius slammed the door and ran to the kitchen. "Papa. Papa. Harry Potter's here!”

Draco smiled wide, pushing his fringe out of his eyes again. “Did you invite him in?"

"Oh." The realization dawned on Scorpius that he’d just left the Most Famous Person in the World standing on the front step freezing.

“What am I going to do with you, Scorpius Malfoy? Let’s go rescue him.” Draco took Scorpius’ hand and returned to the lounge. “Try again.” Draco’s voice squeaked on the first syllable.

Scorpius reopened the door and used his best manners that Grand-mère had taught him. "Mr. Potter, sir. Come in." Scorpius shook Harry’s hand enthusiastically, paying no attention to the white box that dangled from Harry’s finger by red and white twine. Not letting go, he dragged Harry across the lounge toward the fireplace.

Over his shoulder, Harry looked back at Draco, laughing and mouthing save me. Draco smiled at Harry who didn’t need saving at all. He did take the box from Harry and peek inside. Bakery biscuits for dessert.

Once Scorpius seated Harry near the fireplace and offered a warm, knitted afghan, and physically placed Harry’s feet on the ottoman, he asked, "May I get you a cold beverage?"

Beverage. Harry hid his smile behind his hand so Scorpius wouldn’t think Harry was teasing him. "How about, you sit and I'll get us a cold beverage."

Scorpius’ big eyes were serious. “Really?” When Harry nodded, Scorpius climbed into the now empty cushion and slid down until his tiny, 5-year-old legs could reach the footrest. Slowly, his bottom slid until it dangled in the gap between the couch and the footrest.

He hung there, afraid to move and knowing that, if he did move, he’d hit bottom first on the floor. “Helllllp.” Scorpius called out to whomever could hear and save him from his dreadful fate.

Harry returned and heard the tiny voice. He bit his lips, because it was the only way not to burst into laughter. He dropped the can of soda and the cup onto the coffee table. “I’ll save you!” Harry slipped his hands under Scorpius’ bottom and scooped him up. “I have rescued you from the lava floor. You are safe now, Sir Scorpius.”

Scorpius giggled as Harry plopped him onto the couch and then poured some of the soda into the cup for Scorpius. "May I share this with you? It's the last can."

“Soda on a school night? Papa never allows that.” Scorpius’ stared at the inch of cola in the glass that Harry’s handed him.

Harry’s brow wrinkled and he rubbed his hands up and down the wales of his corduroy trousers. “Hmmmm. I think I should have asked your father first.”

Draco walked into the lounge drying his hands on a towel. “Ask father what?”

“Mr. Potter gave me soda!” Scorpius bounced on the sturdy couch cushion and grinned as he held the glass up to show Draco.

“You don’t say.” Draco cocked an eyebrow and cringed. “Caffeine and sugar. And so close to bedtime.”

Chagrined, Harry smiled and shrugged his shoulders to say oops, sorry.

“Two minutes until dinner,” Draco announced, hanging his hand towel from the apron’s tie.

“Papa! I have a great idea! Can Mr. Potter stay for dinner?” Scorpius stood up on the couch and began to bounce. He leaned over and whispered to Harry, “He already cleaned like company is coming.”

Draco felt his ears burn. “Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. You sit down right this moment.”

Scorpius threw his feet out in front of him and landed on the couch, bum first with a giant bounce. “I’m sorry, Papa. I’m sorry Mr. Potter.”

Harry had turned away as Draco disciplined Scorpius. If he laughed, he didn’t want to undermine Draco.

"I believe you may call him Mr. Harry," Draco suggested. “That would be okay.” Harry nodded his approval.

“Ok Mr. Harry. I'll be right back." Scorpius jumped off the couch and raced up the hall.

"Something I said?" Harry smiled, as he watched Scorpius fly out of the room. “He has some serious fucking energy.”

“That is all you.” Draco sat a respectable distance from Harry on the couch, not wanting to crowd him. “He has two speeds: balls-to-the-wall and sound asleep. We Malfoys are a quiet, bookish people.”

Draco watched Harry preen, learning that Scorpius carried more than just Harry’s eye color.

When Scorpius returned, he had Mr. Bunny draped over one arm and Mr. Bunny's Brother Mr. Bunny curled against his chest. The cat looked long suffering but benevolent. Scorpius wedged himself between Harry and the arm of the couch, almost sitting on Harry’s lap.

“Good thing I took a slug of that allergy potion.” Harry looked askance at the cat and scooted to the center of the couch, bumping into Draco, already amused at the situation.

Scorpius formally introduced Harry to Mr. Bunny and then to BunnyKitty. He thrust the cat at Harry, paws first. "You want to hold him?”

Harry held his hands up, trying to beg off. The kitten hissed and squirmed until Draco took her from Scorpius, and placed the cat on the floor.

Draco apologized. “She’s really very loving. Maybe there something in the allergy potion she doesn't like."

The kitten jumped back onto the couch and settled on Scorpius his lap. Draco swore she kept one eye trained on Harry.

When Scorpius’ stomach growled loud enough to startle BunnyKitty, Draco declared it time to eat. Through dinner, Harry asked Scorpius questions about school and his friends, and listened to his answers no matter how long he waffled. Draco listened without interrupting, and when Harry asked him a question, he kept his answers light.

By the time dinner ended, Scorpius wore more of his spaghetti sauce than he could have possibly eaten. Draco pretended he didn’t see Scorpius dangle spaghetti under the table for BunnyKitty to play with.

Draco stacked the dishes and winked at Harry. “Anyone who hasn’t fed the cat spaghetti may now have dessert.”

Scorpius pushed his bottom lip out, hoping his pout and wide, sad eyes would help change Draco’s mind.

“That’s all you,” Harry said as he pointed his head. “I remember that look well.”

Draco plated the biscuits, and thanked Merlin for the diversion. He knew his face was on fire from Harry’s comment. More than once, when Harry’d said he was too tired, Draco had changed his mind with that face. Well, that and a few well-practiced strokes.

The biscuits, decorated with melting snowmen, reminded Harry of the Christmas he’d spent in Fiji. As they ate, he told them stories about the rain and snakes and snorkeling next to dangerous creatures. Eventually, Scorpius’ questions drifted off, replaced with yawns. He’d dropped his head onto Mr. Bunny, using him like a pillow.

"Is it bedtime?"

"It was 30 minutes ago." Draco smiled as he plugged in the kettle for tea.

“You put him to bed. I’ll make the tea.” Harry smiled and knelt down to say good night to Scorpius. “Would it be okay with you if I came back again?”

Scorpius nodded as he yawned. “Mr. Bunny and I would like that. I’m not sure about BunnyKitty, though.” Harry had to agree.

"You probably have to check the progress of your counter-curses too, right?”

Harry patted his wand in his back pocket. “Of course. Yes. The full moon is almost here.”

Draco skipped the bath and stuffed a squirmy Scorpius into his pajamas.

"Papa. Can you tell us a story?"

"Not a long one tonight, Stinger. It’s late and you have school tomorrow. Once upon a time, the prince, who was the most handsome man in the kingdom, walked down to the lake behind the castle. He was by himself because he had a fight with his best friend. Two big white swans swam on the lake, and they were almost as pretty as the Prince so he liked them right away. The swans played tag and chased each other. And at naptime they snuggled with each other. They were the best friends ever. And the prince knew that he had to apologize to his best friend because of the fight."

Draco watched Scorpius sleep, wrapped around Mr. Bunny. He regretted so many things, but never once did he regret this miracle.

"Papa is Mr. Potter married?" Scorpius’ voice was muffled by the pillow.

"No, he’s not.”

"Are you friends?”

“Yes, we used to be best friends. But we lost touch for a while.” Draco held his breath, not sure what Scorpius would say next. He waited, listening to the even breathing. “Why?”

“Because I like him. He's nice. And I like the thing his eyes do when he looks at you."

“I don’t understand, Stinger. What do you mean?” Draco held his son’s hand, the little fingers wrapping around his.

"His eyes get all crinkly in the corners, like yours do right before you tickle me or kiss my belly." Scorpius smiled, but didn’t say anything else.

"You must be mistaken, sugar. Mr. Harry isn’t going to kiss my belly." Draco stuttered, wondering what Scorpius had seen that he had missed.

“That’s not what Mr. Bunny says.” Scorpius rolled over to face the wall. “Good night Papa.”

He kissed Scorpius’ head. “Good night, love.” He kissed Mr. Bunny's head and when he moved closer to Mr. Bunny’s Brother Mr. Bunny, she hissed at him.

“BunnyKitty, stop that. You can be replaced."

She looked at Draco with one eye and said meow.

Draco turned off the bedside light and, when he turned, Harry stood in the doorway. He motioned for Draco to follow him to the lounge, and they resettled on the couch. Harry handed Draco a mug and placed the plate with the few remaining biscuits between them on the cushion.

Harry’s eyes were bright with excitement. “He's amazing Draco. You’ve done an _amazing_ job with him. He seems really smart. He gets that from you. He’s just—”

“Amazing. I know.” Draco grinned so wide, his cheeks hurt. He told Harry everything he could think of. When he’d learned to walk, and what his first word was, and naughty things he did that made Draco laugh.

They segued to Draco’s work and Harry listened, asking question after question, as Draco spoke with passion about the human mind and trauma.

“Papa, can Mr. Harry come with us tomorrow night?” Scorpius stood in the doorway, the pyjama bottoms too short from a growth spurt. He rubbed his closed eyes as he waited for Draco’s answer.

“Sure he can, Stinger. I’ll ask him.” Draco waited for Scorpius to respond and then sent him back to bed.

“I think we’re too loud and woke him up.” Draco watched Scorpius toddle back to his room.

“I should go anyway.” Harry picked up the two mugs and the empty plate and placed them in the kitchen sink.

“Scorpius and I have this tradition. The Friday night before Christmas, we pick out our tree, and when we get home, we decorate it and have a snack food party. We listen to Christmas music, and we sing really loud.”

Harry smiled broadly as he listened to Draco.

“Scorpius wants to know if you would like to join us.” Draco looked at his hands as he invited Harry. “It’s kind of a big deal. He usually won’t let anyone come. Not even his grandmother.”

Draco gathered his nerve and looked up. He knew Harry would be able to see the hope in his eyes. “Would you like to join us?”

Harry’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He curled his fingers into Draco’s jumper and slowly pulled him in for a kiss. Draco’s muscle memory took over, doing that thing with his lips that made Harry weak and whimper.

When Harry broke away, he was breathing hard and heavy. Every bit as much as Draco.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d like to join you. I’ll text you for the information.”

And Harry disapparated, embarrassed he’d lost control, but ridiculously, outrageously happy that he had.

Draco watched him go, his fingers tracing his lips as if he could still feel Harry’s on his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title for the chapter comes from Hamilton; Dear Theodosia.


	16. Same Song, Second Verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOOSELY based on this prompt: 
> 
> Draco, Scorpius and Harry go Christmas tree shopping. And Harry lets Draco know that the kiss wasn't a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh playing fast and loose with Brit society. I know Christmas tree lots are a thing. I just don't know if I've used the wrong words. Please let me know if I have, and I'll be THRILLED to change them!

When Harry knocked at 5 the next night, the door flew open and Harry pitched forward into the house, his red and gold ski hat launching off his head. He barely managed to stay upright and not tumble on top of Scorpius, who’d wrenched the door open in excitement.

“Papa! Mr. Harry’s here! Let’s go!” Scorpius already wore his heavy winter jacket and fumbled as he tried to zip it using his mittened hands.

“Let me help you, honey.” Harry crouched down and zipped Scorpius’ jacket. Then Harry hesitated and said, “I’m at perfect hug height, if, y’know, someone wanted a hug.”

Scorpius threw his arms around Harry’s neck, and before Scorpius released him, Harry stood, pretending to wobble under the extra weight. “Oh Merlin! What did you eat today? Bricks? Elephants?” Scorpius giggled and wiggled as Harry staggered to the couch.

Draco walked into the room to find a pile of fleece and wool giggling on the couch. “All right, boys. If we go now, we may have a chance of returning with a tree tonight.”

Harry extricated himself. “Oh, I brought Scorpius something. It’s no big deal, I just thought…” He retrieved the bag from where it’d gone flying, and pulled out a red and gold Gryffindor scarf. “…It would be cold tonight, and maybe he could use it.”

For a moment Draco wanted to argue that Scorpius owned a Slytherin scarf, thank you very much. But why? My House. Your House. Why did it matter anymore? And this gift was an offering from Harry.

“Stinger, this is really awesome.” Draco draped it over Scorpius’ shoulders. “It’s Gryffindor colors.”

“That was the House you were in.” Scorpius pointed to Harry and yelped as he wound the scarf around his neck. “I read it in my History book at school.”

Harry clutched his chest over his heart. “Kill me now, please. History?”

Scorpius nodded his head solemnly and crossed his heart. “The book has a whole chapter about you. And Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley.”

Draco pinched his nose as he scrunched his eyes closed. “Did it—mention anyone else?” Pleasepleasepleaseplease don’t say Grandfather.

“No, but Mrs. Higgs said she has some books I can borrow.”

“Wow, look at the time—”

“We should probably be going—”  
Harry and Draco spoke at the same time, nodding and agreeing with each other. Neither wanted to have that discussion anytime soon. Although, Draco realized, it would be better for Scorpius to hear it from his Papa. From the look on Harry’s face, Draco was certain he was thinking the same thing.

“Papa, where’s my Slytherin scarf? I want to wear that, too.” Scorpius knelt on all fours, searching under the couch and chairs.

Draco shrugged into his woolen great coat and grabbed his gloves. “If you put it away, you’d know where it was.”

“—I’d know where it was.” Scorpius said in unison with his Papa. His lip trembled as he checked the coat rack without success.

Harry squatted down to talk to Scorpius. “I know the Slytherin scarf is your favorite, and it really is the best House, because that’s where Papa lived. But just for tonight, would this scarf be ok? It’s warm, too. I pinky promise.” Harry held his pinky out to Scorpius.

Scorpius nodded, biting his lips between his teeth. He wrapped his pinky around Harry’s.

Draco smiled in thanks, and Harry shrugged it off.

 

~*~

A Christmas tree lot had popped up a few blocks from Draco’s terrace home. It wasn’t the only one; it wasn’t even the closest one. But the first time he’d passed it, Draco could feel the thrum of the magic surround and embrace him. As much as he enjoyed Muggle life, some things were better with Magic.

Bundled in their heavy coats and knitted scarves, the three walked hand-in-hand up the crowded pavement. Their wellies squeaked on the patches of tamped-down snow, and Scorpius sang carols in time to their footsteps.

He only got the first line of “We Wish You a Wizard Christmas” out before Draco’s hand flew over Scorpius’ mouth. To the irritation of people rushing to get home, Draco leaned over and whispered, “Remember that we don’t use Wizard words in public. Yes?”

Scorpius nodded, his eyes wide. “Is it okay?”

“Yeah.” Harry picked up Scorpius and put him up on Harry’s shoulders. “It is ok. We just have to be super careful.”

Draco watched the father and son out of the corner of his eye. The hair and eyes. And other, tiny things. The crooks of their smiles. How their noses wriggled when they laughed. He thought of the Grinch in the Muggle book he’d read to Scorpius; watching Harry and Scorpius together, Draco knew his heart grew three sizes that day.

Harry slid Scorpius off his shoulders once they’d stepped inside the Christmas tree lot. “Is this a Wizarding-only shop?” Harry asked the owner. He had to be the owner, bedecked in reindeer antlers and a jingle-bell necklace. The music that Harry thought came from overhead turned out to be from a fairy sitting on one of the antlers’ prongs.

“Of course, sir. To Muggles, this is just another empty space. Merry Christmas!” He handed Harry three candy canes from Honeyduke’s and was dragged off by a customer in need of assistance.

Draco moved out of the way and unwrapped Scorpius’ new scarf. “I’ll hold this so you don’t lose it. Go look, but come back in a few minutes.”

Scorpius was gone with a shriek of happiness before Draco could say another word. He watched Scorpius leave, and when he turned back to Harry, he was uncharacteristically hesitant. “Now that we’re alone, I wanted to say…”

He needed to tell Harry that it was ok that the kiss last night didn’t mean anything. That Harry’s emotions had just been running high from being around Scorpius. That, of course, nothing had changed between them.

Harry stepped closer to Draco. “Yes?” His voice was lower, rougher than it had been a moment ago.

Draco looked into the emerald, and it killed him to say this, because he wanted it to change everything. He choked on the words. “I know last night was—”

“Not a mistake.” Harry brought his hands to Draco’s cheeks and slowly, giving Draco time to back away, kissed him tenderly. “Not as far as I’m concerned.” He rested his forehead against Draco’s, his hands still cradling Draco’s face.

Draco would have answered if he had any breath.

“I know it’s fast,” Harry whispered. “But it’s not. It’s like, when your favorite movie has a sad ending, and then they make it right in the sequel.”

Draco held it in. Merlin, he tried, but the laugh burst out. “We’re a movie?”

Harry tried to look offended, but couldn’t manage it for long. Draco laughing unrestrained was Harry’s new sexuality. “Hey. I was going to say like a pair of old shoes that fit perfectly.”

Draco only laughed harder. “Great. I’m old, cracked and stinky. Hit me where it hurts.”

“Okay.” Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and kissed him again, this time with heat and memory. A swipe of his tongue against Draco’s lips, and he parted them to allow Harry in. Harry whimpered, and Draco’s knees almost gave away at the sound.

Only the tug at Draco’s coat parted them. “Papa. Cut out the mushy stuff. It’s asssssgustin’. Let’s find a tree.”

“You heard the man.” Harry turned to Draco, who wondered if dying of embarrassment were a thing. “Let’s find a tree.”

Scorpius grabbed Harry’s empty hand (the other was connected to Draco’s), and dragged them into the rows of trees.

Each time Harry pronounced a tree perfect, Draco half frowned and told him why Harry was wrong. “This one is too big. It won’t fit.” And dismissed that tree.

“This one is too small.” And in truth, Scorpius could have put the star on it. He dismissed that tree.

Harry held up one that was just a shade taller than Draco. Full and thick. Harry pointed to it, offering it up for Draco’s opinion.

Draco raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Oh, that one is—”

“Juuuuuuust right.” Harry and Scorpius said at the same time.

“Papa, you sound like Goldilocks.” Scorpius giggled and shared his candy cane with Mr. Bunny, who seemed to have nibbled most of it down to the crook.

“That’s because I have such beeeeeyoutiful hair.” Draco pretended to flip his hair from his shoulders.

“Just like a prince.” Scorpius smiled and popped the rest of the candy cane into his already-sticky mouth.

 _Little turd. He figured out the bedtime stories_. sigh.

Harry paid for the tree, and with a Reducio, charmed the tree to fit into Scorpius’ pocket.

“Now what?” Harry asked as they walked home. “What do you two do next?”

“Popcorn for dinner!” Scorpius punched the air.

“Junk food and decorating, sugar crash, and then falling into bed exhausted.” Draco laughed as he watched Scorpius run ahead and double back, telling them they were walking tooooo slow.

“Sounds good to me.” And Harry’s smile told Draco just how much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you follow me, you know 99% of my titles of fics and chapters are from songs. This one is no different. This comes from an American camping song, called [fried ham](http://www.boyscouttrail.com/content/song/fried_ham-1661.asp)


	17. Hang Your Stockings Up With Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt 
> 
> They decorate the tree and the mantle. And Scorpius. And there is fluff and crack. (toothbrush not included)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> marginally beta'd.

With a practiced _Wingardium Leviosa_ , Draco lifted the now full size tree and lowered it into the stand while Harry busied himself in the kitchen. On all fours under the tree, Draco tightened the screws against the tree trunk.

"Papa the tree is wonky."

"Patience. I'm not done yet." Draco pushed his hair out of his eyes and crawled further under the tree to reach the screw at the back. _How do Muggles do this?_   Misjudging the space, he smacked his head into the wall and let loose a stream of inventive curses.

"Ohhhhhh Paaaapa. You said really bad words!"

Harry walked into the lounge with a giant bowl of popcorn, just in time to see Draco's arse in the air and hear the string of language.

"Really bad words," Harry agreed as he handed the bowl to Scorpius. "Also the tree is caddywampus." He sat next to Scorpius and argued which way the tree needed to be moved to stand straight.

Draco looked over his shoulder and flipped Harry off when Scorpius wasn't looking. He mouthed fuck you for good measure.

Harry grinned and nodded. "Yes. Please."

“Shut up,” Draco said without any heat from under the tree. "Is it straight now?"

“As straight as I am,” Harry said with a snort, just loud enough for Draco to hear.

“Did. You. Just.” Draco covered his mouth and laughed. Harry only nodded in response.

They agreed more or less was a perfect appropriate answer and Draco backed out from under the tree, arse first. "Now, we take a moment to enjoy the tree in its natural beauty."

Scorpius leaned in toward Harry. He cupped his hand in front of Harry's ear and said at full volume, "I think he's just old and tired and wants to sit down."

Harry snorted again.

"I think you're right, Scorpius. He is pretty old."

Draco sat in silence, his arms crossed over his chest. With a click of his tongue he said, "Is that how this is going to be then? You two ganging up on me?"

Scorpius didn't see the sparkle in Draco's eyes. He gasped and climbed over Harry to reach his Papa, grinding a knee into Harry's thigh on the way. "No Papa. I love you."

Scorpius threw his arms around Draco's neck and kissed his cheeks. Draco whispered, “I’m only teasing” so that Scorpius would know it was okay.

Reassured, Scorpius jumped off the couch and dragged a storage tub of decorations into the center of the room. "Lights! Lights go first!"

He dug through the tub and pulled out a snarl of light strands and plopped himself on the floor determined to work through the puzzle. BunnyKitty wanted to help, too, but each time Scorpius moved the wire, the cat pounced on its prey. Scorpius pulled and the kitten attacked until eventually Scorpius hopelessly entangled himself.

"Help. Helllllllp." Scorpius looked through the wires to Draco and Harry, pleading for them to stop laughing and free him.

"More popcorn?" Draco said, offering the bowl to Harry. "This is really good!"

"I make it the old fashioned Muggle way--" Harry said until he was interrupted.

"Helllllp meeeeee."

"--I went home to get the kernels. You only had microwave. What you need is--"

"Pleeeeease Papa!" Scorpius managed to stand and waddled to a stop at the couch.

"Do you hear something?" Draco turned to Harry, working to keep a straight face.

"I think the lights are talking to us. Maybe we need to plug them in." Harry reached for the plug and tickled Scorpius the tiniest bit.

"Stoppppp. Get me ouuuut." Scorpius giggled and wiggled.

With a quick detangling spell, Harry freed Scorpius who giggled more as the vibrations tickled him.

With his wand, Draco lifted the lights and wove them around the tree in a gentle, sloping spiral. When he plugged them into the outlet, they sparkled against the bare evergreen branches.

“Now we decorate it!” Scorpius dragged the storage tub further into the room. “These are mine!” He pushed a bin up to Harry’s face. “Every year Papa gives me an ornament to put on the tree.” Scorpius sat on the couch and pulled Harry with him.

He peeled newspaper from each ornament and held them up for Harry’s inspection and approval. “I only have four so far. But by the time I’m as old as you, I think I’ll have like a million!”

Harry nodded solemnly. “At _least_. Which is your favorite?”

Without hesitation, Scorpius picked up a hand-stitched felt heart. “This one. Listen.” He placed it near Harry’s ear; he heard the faint swish of a heartbeat. “Papa made this one for me. That’s what my heart sounded like before I was born. He said he loved me from the first time he heard that song.”

Harry closed his eyes and pursed his lips as he swallowed hard. He couldn’t speak without his voice breaking. “I can understand that,” Harry finally said.

While Scorpius decorated the tree, Draco cleared the mantle and draped an evergreen and holly bough over it, adding candles and a swag of brass stars.

“You ready, Stinger?” Draco showed his son two red stockings.

Scorpius nodded, his eyes wide and serious. Draco handed him the two stockings and hoisted him up to mantle-height, where Scorpius hung them on tiny hooks. Scorpius slid out of his father’s arms and they stepped back to admire their work, and Harry declared it perfect.

“Wait!” Scorpius dashed up the hallway. “Don’t do anything yet!”

Draco and Harry exchanged glances. “Don’t look at me,” Draco said throwing his hands up. “I almost never know what he’s going to do next.”

Scorpius returned clutching two red—objects. Draco was afraid to guess what they were.

“Papa. Which one is better?” He held up a small red sock, the size that would fit a five-year-old’s foot. And a pair of Draco’s red boxer-briefs. “This one looks more like a stocking,” he said as he wiggled the sock for emphasis. “But I think this would hold more.” He thrust the pants at his father. “What do you think?”

Draco hid his face in his hands. “For Merlin’s sake, Scorpius. Why do you have my pants?”

Harry held his stomach, gasping for breath as he laughed. “I think the red pants would definitely hold more.”

“Papa, Mr. Harry doesn’t have a stocking, and I wanted to find him one, but you don’t have big red socks and we don’t have any other fancy ones like ours.” He gripped the two red items, demanding an answer.

“That is really sweet, honey, but I think Mr. Harry probably has a stocking at his own house.” He drew Scorpius in for a hug. He loved this in his son, his absolute need to include people, his belief that no one should be left out.

“You know. I don’t.” Harry ran his fingers through Scorpius’ hair, careful not to tangle in the curls. “Could I use this?”

When Scorpius nodded, Harry transfigured the tiny sock into a replica of the other two on the mantle. “Is it—would it be alright to hang it there?”

Draco watched Harry, trying to decide if he were humoring Scorpius. He wouldn’t allow anyone to trifle with his son’s emotions. But Harry’s body language was open and accepting. He’d turned an ornament hanger into a hook and picked Scorpius up to hang the new stocking on the mantle.

“Wait. I have an idea!”

“Oh God, not again,” Draco cradled his face in his hands, laughing. Scorpius directed Harry to move him left and right until his own stocking hung on the new hook in the center, flanked by the two men’s. “Perfect.”

Harry agreed. “Excellent. Like it belongs there.”

They finished decorating the tree with ornaments from the storage container. Harry dug through and buried on the bottom of the tub lay something blanketed in bubble paper. He unwrapped it carefully.

“You kept this.” Harry stared at a heart-shaped porcelain ornament. _2008 Our First Christmas Together._

Draco stopped tidying the empty boxes and squares of newspaper. “Of course I did. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I wanted to forget the good times.”

Harry stood speechless. He watched Draco repack the containers, clean up popcorn from the floor, and carry Scorpius—who’d fallen asleep on the couch—to bed.

When Draco returned to the lounge, Harry had finished cleaning the chaos and returned the tubs to their storage space. He sat on the couch and tapped the cushion next to him. “I—I’m a bit embarrassed. I never expected—I mean, I’d hoped—but—” Harry dithered, wringing his hands and not quite meeting Draco’s gaze.

“You’re making less sense than usual. Whatever it is, just say it.” Draco took Harry’s hands and laced their fingers together.

Harry took a deep breath, then looked into Draco’s eyes. “When you called me, I was interested to know what had happened to you and your wife. When I got here, I realized how angry I still was. I’m sorry for that, by the way. I mean, for being such a dick.” He tried to move his hand, but Draco wouldn’t let go. He held tighter, hoping Harry would know that it would be alright.

“I came back the next night, because you seemed so happy. I heard you talking to your son, and you’d changed so much. So I came back the next night. And the next. When I got home, I realized that I was angry because I hurt, but the more time I spent here, the happier I felt. So, actually, um, in truth, I—”

“Removed all the curses the first night?” Draco smirked, but still held tight to Harry’s hand.

“You knew?” Harry’s voice shot up, which was surprising considering his jaw dropped to his chest.

Draco laughed and brought Harry’s hand to his lips for a kiss. “Harry. I got Exceeds Expectations on all of my NEWTs. Just because I couldn’t remove the curses doesn’t mean I couldn’t feel that they were gone.”

Harry hid his face against Draco’s shoulder, but Draco could feel him shaking with laughter. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“You should be. Werewolf curses on my house? Waiting til the full moon to—”

The best way Harry had to shut Draco up was to kiss him senseless. So he did.


	18. What To My Wondering Eyes Should Appear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt: 
> 
> Draco and Scorpius finish up some last minute shopping, but who to their wondering eyes should appear in Weasleys Wizard Wheezes? a Wild Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Laws coming today, so a short chapter. Hoping to get 19 up too.

“Papa, Christmas is in six days. Did you know that?” 

Scorpius hopped and skipped down snowy Diagon Alley, not bothered by the crowds or the people he bumped into. The same could not be said for the shoppers, braving the cold and snow. 

“I did. That’s why we’re here. We have a few last minute gifts to get.” Draco prayed that Scorpius could hold his behavior together long enough for them to buy what he needed. Draco’s list was small: a gift for Kreacher. Some festive flowers and holiday candy for his office. Something scandalously expensive for Pansy. And maybe, if he found something perfect, a gift for Harry. 

So far, Draco had checked off the flowers from Longbottom’s Florist and candy from Honeyduke’s. He’d only gotten out of the candy shop so cheaply because he’d promised Scorpius hot chocolate in Fortescue’s when they were done. 

The tricky part of the day would be sneaking past Magical Menagerie. If Scorpius saw the store, they’d spend at least an hour in there. Draco maneuvered them to the opposite side of the street, realizing his error a moment too late.

“Papa, look! LOOK.” Scorpius jumped up and down as he pointed to the bright blue and orange Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes on the corner. “Can we pleeeeeeeeeeeease go in there? Pleeeeeeeeeease.”

When did I completely lose control over this child? When? Did I ever actually have control?

Scorpius dragged Draco by the hand into the store, overflowing with Christmas shoppers. The voices, the overhead music, the titters and beeps and tweets from different toys and joke items. Draco expected Scorpius to meltdown from sensory overload. Instead, his eyes were wide as he attempted to look every place at once. 

Ultimately, Draco had to let go of Scorpius’ hand and let him roam, once he’d given him the standard do.not.go.anywhere.with.a.stranger speech. If he hadn’t, Scorpius would have torn Draco’s arm from its socket, because he just could not move as fast as his son wanted him to. 

Draco positioned himself in a corner, out of the way of most of the shoppers, and marginally entertained himself reading a joke book. As much as he despised this store, he admired George for its success. And he grudgingly admitted that it was admirable of Ron to put aside his goal of becoming an Auror to help his brother. And really. He hated to admit that.

Why did Mrs. Claus divorce Santa? (He only came once a year).

Really?

What’s brown and sticky? (a stick).

Sigh.

What do you call a nun in a wheelchair? (Virgin Mobile).

“Oh for Merlin’s sake.” Disgusted with himself for snickering, Draco slammed the joke book closed and shook his head. 

“Papa, Papa, look who I found.” Grinning, Scorpius navigated the mob, his voice barely audible over the chaos. 

Draco’s eyes searched for a familiar face. Nothing. “Who?”

Scorpius turned full circle. “Hey—Where’d he—”

“Sorry, got caught up with a customer.” Harry ruffled Scorpius’ hair as he walked up behind him. “Hey, handsome.”

Hi, both Malfoys responded simultaneously. “I was talking to him,” Harry laughed as he picked up Scorpius and squeezed him; over his shoulder, Harry winked at Draco. 

Draco’s cheeks pinked, and he felt the familiar flutter in his stomach. Harry had initiated their renewed intimacy, and Draco had held back, waiting, judging, testing. But in his own home, watching Harry fall in love with Scorpius, Draco knew he was helpless.

With a smile, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Scorpius who’d wrapped his arms around Harry. “It’s a Stinger sandwich.” Draco brushed his lips over Harry’s, just enough to say I like you and I like us. Harry’s eyes lit up, and he hid his smile in Scorpius’ shoulder.

Scorpius wriggled, too confined for too long. “Are you Christmas shopping, Mr. Harry?”

Harry looked down at his bright blue and orange shirt with his name stitched on the front pocket and hid his smile. “No, honey. I work here sometimes.”

“Really?” Draco’s eyebrows furrowed then arched. “But your Auror training—”

Harry looked down at his battered watch. “If you’re done here, I can leave for the day. We could go next door for lunch?”

“Can we, Papa? Can we?” Scorpius bounced and danced, waiting for his father’s answer. 

“Please?” Harry’s fingers skimmed Draco’s, and Draco surrendered to the electricity of the touch. “Let me tell Ron I’m leaving.”  
Scorpius stared at the pocket of Harry’s half-apron. Each time it twitched and wiggled, Scorpius’ eyes widened. “What’s in there?” he pointed, afraid of the answer.

Harry laughed and pulled a Snitch from his pocket, its wings shimmying. “It’s Mr. Ron’s latest creation. It’s a beginner’s Snitch. The better you get, the harder it is to catch.”

“That’s a great idea,” Draco said, before he could kick himself for praising The Weasel.

“I’ve never played Quidditch. Sometimes Papa and I listen to matches on the wireless.” Scorpius fingers grazed the silver wings that paused under the touch. 

Harry knelt to Scorpius’ eye height. “You’ve never played Quidditch?” When Scorpius frowned and shook his head, Harry said, “I have an idea, but I have to check with Papa first.”

Harry stood up and brought his mouth to Draco’s ear. “I’m going to the Burrow tomorrow for an early Christmas and you know we’ll wind up outside playing Quidditch. Come with me. Let him play.”

Harry’s warm breath on Draco’s ear. Was his brain supposed to function? Because it wasn’t. But his cock sure was. Shit. 

Draco nodded. He would have agreed to anything at that point, as long as Harry never moved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from a ridicuously old Christmas song called [Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ARq6uYSsUq0) It's from when Rap was a new art form. Yeah. I'm old. :D


	19. Busy Sidewalks Dressed In Holiday Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based LOOSELY on this prompt: 
> 
> Harry and Scorpius go secret Christmas shopping, leaving Draco with time on his hands. And we learn why Harry isn' an auror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only 1 day behind now. ! woot!

Over lunch, Scorpius pestered Harry about the surprise. “Pleasepleaseplease pleeeeeeease tell me.” Scorpius ignored his bowl of chicken noodle soup in favor of begging.

“Nope. Just be ready by lunch time tomorrow and wear warm clothes. I promise, it will be less painful than eating lima beans or Brussels sprouts.” Harry smiled angelically, unwilling to offer more.

“Paaaaaaapa. Pleeeeeease.” Scorpius clasped his hands and implored his father to be more kind than Mr. Harry.

“Eat your soup.”

Scorpius sat Mr. Bunny in his lap and shared the soup. Spoonful for me. One for you.

Draco moved his chair closer to Harry’s at the bistro-sized table. He dropped his voice in the hope that Scorpius would miss most of their conversation. “What happened Harry? You always wanted to be an Auror.”

Harry chuckled without joy. “No. Everyone else wanted me to be. Expected me to be. After the war, what else did I have? Coming home to you made it ok, but when I didn’t have that—” Harry covered Draco’s hand with his own. “I’m not blaming anyone. I should have listened to what my body was trying to tell me.”

Draco caressed Harry’s cheek as he spoke. “I’m so sorry.”

“I got reckless. They warned me and gave me more second chances than I deserved. You’ve heard of ‘Suicide by Auror’? Where someone suicidal will do something so threatening it forces the Aurors to respond lethally? My file read like ‘Suicide by Criminal 101.’ It’s by the grace of Merlin that I’m still here. The department forced me to go to a Healer-Therapist and face what I was doing. Eventually, I resigned.

“My parents left me a lot of money, and it gained interest all those years. I don’t need to work. One day, Ron asked me my opinion on one of their pranks. I told him I thought it sucked and exactly why. Next thing I knew, I was sort of the unofficial tester. Like with this.”

Harry withdrew the Snitch from his pocket. He’d stopped the wings, and it rested oddly still on the table. “Ron and I were sitting around watching Quidditch, talking about the team’s seeker. He said, _man that guy needs a slower Snitch_. And the idea popped out of that. I test it, make suggestions.”

Draco pulled at Harry’s work shirt and pinched his lips in disdain. “And this sartorial delight?”

Harry’s laughter filled the café. Draco felt giddy as he listened. “Christmas time is all hands on deck. Even the part timers.”

Scorpius’ spoon clattered in his empty bowl. “We’re finished. What are we gonna do now?”

Harry side-eyed Draco and whispered something to Scorpius, who squealed and nodded in agreement.

“Scorpius and I have some errands to run,” Harry said as he turned to Draco. “If it’s okay with you?”

“You’re not invited,” Scorpius said, pointing his finger at Draco, who pretended to look offended.

“Well, I never.” Draco crossed his arms and looked away, but Scorpius could see his smile.

“What will you do, Papa? Do—do you need Mr. Bunny to keep you company?” Scorpius pursed his lips, and Draco thought he might actually cry.

“Goodness, Mr. Bunny needs to be with you. I’ll be fine. I’ll wander Diagon Alley and see if I find anything else to put on my list for Santa. You two have a great time.” Draco sat back and looked at Scorpius and Harry, almost copies of each other, and wondered what type of reactions they’d garner out in the Wizarding world.

~*~

They agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron at 5. For the first time in—well, five years—Draco was alone and felt relaxed, at ease. Without thought, he knew that Harry would be in tune with Scorpius.

As a therapist, Draco diagnosed Scorpius with Sensory Processing Disorder. To his ears, loud was screeching, blaring, overwhelming. To his skin, touch was exaggerated, like rough sandpaper, overwhelming. Unfortunately, Scorpius didn’t have the language tools to explain what was happening or the maturity to sense it coming. When he became overwhelmed, he’d shriek or meltdown. Passers-by, angry or well-meaning, would interpret it as a tantrum and offer their opinions or advice. In the end, if they couldn’t go to a place they knew would be alright, they would often choose to stay home.

In addition to sensory issues, Draco suspected that Scorpius might be on the Autism spectrum. He’d seen and researched cases when he was in Healer training. Scorpius exhibited spectrum tendencies. He would’ve told a patient’s parent to wait and watch; he simply took his own advice.

The two issues made finding a babysitter problematic. As an absolute last resort, he would ask his mother, but he preferred to keep Scorpius away from Lucius. So here, today, six days before Christmas, Harry gave him the gift of time. Three uninterrupted hours.

Draco walked out of the café and down Diagon Alley, wandering in and out of stores that he could never go into with Scorpius in tow. Fat snowflakes landed on his cap and the ends of his scarf. Occasionally one would slip down to the bare skin of his neck, but he reveled in the cold, enjoying it as part of this gift.

The snow quickly covered the stores’ windowsills and overhangs. Evergreen boughs were polka dotted and Draco swept snow off the stores’ steps with his foot before walking up. He ducked into _Madam Malkin_ ’s to price new formal robes for Scorpius. On a whim he stopped in _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ and purchased a child-sized broom for Scorpius. He would have that delivered. But he spent the most time in _Flourish and Blott’s_ , enjoying the rare luxury of standing in one place and browsing through books.

Scorpius had the ability to focus on one passion and absorb every fact and minute detail. Based on Harry’s plan for the next day, Draco suspected that Quidditch would be Scorpius’ new obsession. The bookstore clerk squatted in the store’s bay window, setting up a display of the _2016 Quidditch Almanac—Every Fact and Statistic You Need_.

He grabbed a shopping basket and picked up two copies from the harried clerk, whose shipping box was empty and zero books had made it to the window display. He found a Wizarding War II book and skimmed the parts that discussed the Malfoys as well as Voldemort’s use of the Manor. The tone seemed fair and relatively objective, as did the parts about Potter/Granger/Weasley. He hated the books that glorified the Golden Trio. No one was innocent in war, and Draco knew it. This would help him talk to Scorpius about WWII.

Draco stepped out into several inches of snow. He hadn’t realized the storm had picked up in the two hours he’d spent wandering the aisles. Diagon Alley was beautiful and Draco savored he final few moments he had alone.

When he wrote the gift list that morning, he realized he had no idea what to give Harry. As he’d shopped with Scorpius, he’d looked, but still he had no idea. The Quidditch book was fun, but he wanted something more meaningful.

He’d almost reached Fortescue’s when he knew. Across the street from the ice cream shop stood a new store. Remembrances the sign said. With a look in the window, he knew exactly what he would get Harry. But he’d have to come back; he’d have to search through Scorpius’ memory box to find it.

Draco rushed to meet Scorpius and Harry. Already a few minutes late, Draco hoped his son wasn’t in the middle of a giant meltdown. Change of plans didn’t go over well.  
The Christmas bells on the door jingled as Draco entered the store. Scorpius waved him over to their table. He wiggled and turned so his body would hide the bags between him and Harry. “Wedidn’tbuyanythingatall, Papa. So don’t ask.” Scorpius’ cheeks were red from the cold and wind, and the hot cocoa must have felt wonderful inside his belly and to his hands that held the mug.

“Goodness, I’m sorry you weren’t able to find anything. Maybe next time.” Draco said, looking sad for his son’s sake.

Harry fixed his jumper, tugging the sleeves down and pulling off an invisible string. “If we had gone shopping, I’m sure we would have found the best gift ever.” Scorpius hissed _shhhhh_ even as he squealed in delight. “But we didn’t.”

“Nope.” Scorpius slurped his cocoa and managed to drag his nose through the whipped cream. “We didn’t find nothin’.”

“Nothin’.” Harry echoed.

Draco knew that, whatever they’d found, it would be amazing.


	20. Back to the Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt: 
> 
> Draco and Scorpius accept Harry's invitation to go to the Burrow and play Quidditch. part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.  
> and YES! this title comes from a song, too! Ed Sheeran's **Nina!** Go me!

_Please let it be ok. And let them like him. Amen._

In their lounge, Draco ended his silent prayer and smiled at Scorpius clasping Mr. Bunny. He assumed it was Scorpius, who’d bundled himself in what Draco suspected was every piece of outdoor winter clothing he owned, including his Gryffindor scarf and Slytherin ski hat. “Ready to have fun, Stinger? Hold on!”

Scorpius stood as still as he could; Draco wrapped his arm around his son and a moment later landed inside the protective Wards cast on the house. They stood near the house’s back door so Draco could remind Scorpius of the rules of proper behavior.

“Where are we, Papa?” Scorpius looked up at the building that had been added onto several times, each new section a different color or different material. He counted at least four floors with fireplaces dotting the different roofs, all in use on this cold day.

Before Draco could answer, the back door of The Burrow swung open, and he was enveloped in a crushing hug.

“Draco! Welcome! It's been much too long. Let me look at you." Molly Weasley stepped back and inspected him, even turning him around. "Handsome as always but much too thin. Have you been eating?" Even in his winter jacket, she knew he was too thin.

"We have pizza and spaghettis and sometimes we have takeaway!" Scorpius' words tumbled out, listing his most favorite foods.

The woman crouched down to speak directly to Scorpius. "My goodness. Aren't you adorable! What’s your name, love?”

"I'm Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, but my Papa calls me Stinger.” He stood Malfoy tall and proud.

“I’m Molly Weasley, but all my favorite people call me Gran. I think you should, too.” She scooped him up an propped him on her hip

Scorpius had never seen such red hair, curled and—big. He needed to touch it, to know how it felt. Soft like BunnyKitty? Scratchy like Papa’s beard? Scorpius reached out to tangle his fingers in this woman’s hair, but he heard Papa clear his throat, which was always a warning.

Scorpius withdrew his hand, but Gran whispered, “It’s ok to touch it. It’s soft.” Scorpius petted her hair, careful like he was with BunnyKitty. Head to tail. Always head to tail.

“It feels nice.” Scorpius snuggled in against Molly’s neck. Grand-mère was nice, but not soft like this. “Mr. Bunny says it _is_ soft.”

“Isn’t he adorable? I could eat him up,” Molly beamed at Draco. Scorpius’ eyes grew wide, and he slowly hid Mr. Bunny behind him. “Oh, not Mr. Bunny, dear. He’s safe.”

Scorpius’ relief was visible, and he brought Mr. Bunny back around. “If it’s ok with your Papa, there are some people I’d like you to meet?” Molly turned to Draco who nodded, unsure how the rest of the Weasleys would respond to their return.

Molly said something about _getting inside where it’s warm_ , but Draco focused on the pop to his right. Harry apparated, smiling broadly. He hoped it was Harry; only his eyes and mouth were visible between the Gryffindor scarf high on his chin and the ski cap pulled low on his forehead.

But Draco would know the movement of that body, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes anywhere.

“Hey, handsome.” Harry smiled warmly, at home at The Burrow. “Where’s Scorpius?”

Draco kissed him welcome. “Molly.” As if the one word explained everything.

Harry laughed and nodded. He’d seen Molly in full-blown grandmother mode. “It is easier to give in. You’re gonna lose anyway.”

“She said I don’t eat enough. And her eyes clearly said Scorpius doesn’t get enough hugs. Insisted he call her Gran and left with him.”

Draco held the back door open for Harry, and as Harry walked past into the kitchen, Draco dropped his hand on Harry’s ass for a quick squeeze. Instead, Harry turned to face Draco in the doorway, and Draco’s hand skimmed the growing bulge in Harry’s jeans.

“He’s not the only one who doesn’t get enough hugs.” Harry’s tone left no question what he meant. He added a waggle of his eyebrows to be certain.

“No way anything’s happening in Weasley Central.” But Draco closed the space between them. He slid the ski cap from Harry’s head and smoothed his hair. “Oh, fuck it.” Draco gave over to his need and with a small moan, Draco dragged his fingers through Harry’s curls and tugged. The filthy sounds escaping Harry’s mouth shredded any reserve Draco held onto. He pressed closer, his knee between Harry’s legs, pushing up again and again against Harry’s hard cock. He ignored the voice in his head saying you need to stop. He didn’t want to, wanted to do this until they both came, sweaty, messy, needy, right here in the doorway. And then on a couch. And a bed. Forever. Draco’s cold lips pressed against Harry’s but the brush of his tongue warmed them both, and Harry parted his lips wanting more.

“Papa! Papa!” Scorpius called from up the hallway.

Draco and Harry jumped apart, but their eyes remained on each other. For the first time in years, Draco desired another person, the feel of hands as they caressed him, the warmth of a mouth as it nipped and sucked. “Later?” Draco’s voice broke, and he didn’t hide his feelings. He wanted to erase the years of separation that never should have been. “I—I need you.”

Harry nodded, incapable of speaking. He stepped back from Draco and closed the kitchen door as Scorpius barreled into the room followed by young, ginger children.

“Papa. I have new best friends. This is Rose and Hugo. Do you know who their mama and papa are?” Scorpius’ voice was high and squeaky as he bounced in front of Draco. “Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. They’re in my school book!”

“No way.” Draco sounded shocked. “Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?”

At that moment, they walked into the room behind Molly. Draco held his breath, not at all sure he would be welcome here by Harry’s best friends.

“Draco! Scorpius is adorable.” Hermione grinned as she swept him up in a hug. “I’m so glad you came.” Before she stepped back, she said, “We haven’t seen Harry this happy in so long.”

Draco smiled unsure if a negative comment would follow, but she pecked his cheek and turned to pick up Hugo, leaving room for Ron.

Ron’s face betrayed none of his thoughts. Draco shook his hand, grateful that at least Weasley was silent. Before Draco could leave, Ron pulled him into a bro hug. “I’m glad you’re here. But if you hurt my best mate again, I swear I’ll cut off your balls.” His words were quiet; Draco wasn’t certain he heard them correctly, but Ron had made his point.

“You have my word.”

“And you have mine.” Ron grinned and slapped Draco’s back before moving away. “Welcome.”

George and Angelina and their two children, Bill and Fleur and their three children, and Percy and Audrey and their two girls filled the kitchen, laughing and teasing, chasing each other. In the chaos, Harry turned to Draco. “You okay?”

He’d been worried that the Weasleys would snub him or judge him because of what he’d done to Harry; this family loved Harry as if he’d been born into it. Draco breathed in relief. “Yes. Although if I like my bollocks where they are, I will never hurt you again.”

Harry’s belly laugh rose over the chatter. “Ron is a great friend, but totally lacks any tact.”

“Who’s ready to play some Quidditch? Last one outside is the Quaffle!” Bill raised his hand as he opened the door and the kitchen emptied faster than Draco thought possible.

Scorpius watched the other kids run out the door after the adults. Draco knelt next to him. “Would you like to go?”

Scorpius nodded. “But I don’t have a broom Papa. I don’t even know how to ride one.”

While Draco was talking to Scorpius, Harry ducked out of the room to retrieve the surprise. Scorpius looked at the brown-paper wrapped package, its shape unmistakable. “I think Santa may have brought one gift early.”

Scorpius shrieked and tore the paper off his Nimbus 2015. And shrieked again. Harry withdrew the Snitch from his pocket and handed it to Scorpius.

“Would you like to learn how to play? Papa and I can teach you how to ride and how to catch the Snitch today, and next time we come back, we can play with the others.”

Harry resisted the urge to hug his son tightly, to kiss his face a thousand times. Too soon. Too soon. But Scorpius looked up at him, his eyes wide in disbelief, and he threw his arms around Harry’s waist. He hugged as tightly as he could. Then he turned to his Papa and hugged him. “Could we?”

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. “Who am I to argue with Santa?”


	21. Princes Who Adore You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt: 
> 
> Scorpius learns to fly. Perhaps Molly should learn not every thought needs a voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Princes, by the Spin Doctors. [Two Princes with Elmo and Zoey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sC-KaKAmmEY) because everyone needs Sesame Street

The snow crunched under their boots as Harry led Draco and Scorpius to a section of the back yard away from the impromptu Quidditch match.

“Crunch Crunch Crunch.” Scorpius sang as he walked between Mr. Harry and Papa. “Bunch Bunch Bunch. Punch Punch Punch.”

“Wunch Wunch Wunch.” Draco added the fourth verse, stomping his feet in time with the rhyme.

Scorpius’ giggle carried in the clear air. “Papa that’s not a word.” He carried the broom in one hand and Mr. Bunny in the other.

“I know what Mr. Bunny would sing,” Harry said when he stopped walking. “Munch Munch Munch a carrot!”

“Sure. _You_ pick a real word.” Draco scoffed at Harry, who’d taken the broom from Scorpius and laid it on top of the snow. “Make me look stupid.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Harry laughed at Draco, who stuck his tongue out.

Harry and Draco showed Scorpius how to raise the broom. “Up!” Scorpius squeaked with his hand parallel to the ground. The broom shot up to his hand in his first try.

Harry stood with his chest puffed out at Scorpius’ natural ability. Draco knew he was thinking of his first Flying Class when they were 11. “Awesome job, Stinger,” Harry said, patting Scorpius’ back.

Draco melted.

He’d guarded the nickname; it was his, what _he_ called his son. He’d never allowed anyone else to use. And instead of feeling jealous, he treasured it.

Harry showed Scorpius how to mount the broom and maintain balance. As Scorpius kicked off, Harry and Draco ran with him, keeping him safe. Sooner than either man expected, Scorpius flew over their heads, squealing and laughing. They made sure he stayed away from the Quidditch pitch; they didn’t want to regrow any bones tonight.

Harry had moved away to an unblemished patch of snow. Draco watched him break a dead branch from a tree and draw something. Harry’s body shielded the design until he called Draco over. Certain Scorpius would be ok, Draco walked over to where Harry stood.

Harry had drawn two entwined hearts in the snow.

Hundreds of thoughts spun in Draco’s head. He couldn’t slow the maelstrom enough to pick one. All he could do was hold Harry’s hands in his and kiss him in the cold.

Harry squeezed Draco’s hands. “I know it’s soon, probably stupidly soon. But. I love you.”

Afraid he might cry and embarrass himself beyond saving, all Draco could say was, “Yes.”

Harry’s smile dimmed. “Yes, I love you. Or Yes, it’s too soon, and it’s stupid.”

Draco kissed him again. “Yes, it’s too soon, and yes I love you.”

Harry exhaled theatrically and then laughed. “When have we ever done something any way other than too soon and too stupid?” Draco’s only answer was a snowball directly at Harry’s chest.

When the match broke up and the brooms were stored, the Weasleys tromped over to the teaching area. Scorpius flew lazy circles over them and basked in his new friends’ praise. The only way Draco could lure Scorpius off his broom was with the promise of fresh cookies and hot cocoa.

Scorpius carried his broom with reverence and stood it outside the doorway. He stomped the snow from the soles of his boots and was immediately absorbed into the crowd of Weasley grandchildren, who insisted on hearing every detail of Scorpius’ flying.

Molly called everyone for cocoa. One by one the kids disappeared, but Scorpius stayed with Draco and the other adults. He told them about Mr. Bunny and BunnyKitty and school.

“He’s learning about us in history class.” Harry groaned as he said it, and Ron pretended to faint at the table.

“Kill me now. We’re history?” Ron sat back upright. “We’re not old enough to be history.”

“I’m not, certainly.” Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You both are definitely old enough.”

Scorpius looked bewildered, unsure what was going on. “My book said that Miss Hermione was the smartest of the three and that without her, you would have been lost.”

 _Did you write the book, honey?_ Ron laughed at the same time Harry grinned and nodded. _Sounds legit._

Molly sat at the table across from Scorpius and watched him as he interacted with the adults. His huge emerald eyes, always serious. She saw the hesitation, as if he couldn’t believe he would be part of this today. The surprise as he explained how he felt when he was on the broom, immediately comfortable.

“You’re so much like your father.” Molly smiled at dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “It takes me back.”

“Thank you.” Scorpius took a sip of his cocoa, tepid now. “My Grand-mère says the same.”

“Yes, of course you’re like Papa Draco, but you’re so very much like Papa Harry.” As soon as the words slipped out, Molly slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Mr. Harry isn’t my Papa. Only Papa is my papa.” Scorpius head turned from adult to adult. He didn’t understand what was wrong, why they all looked so upset.

“Molly, it’s alright. Please don’t worry. It’s time.” Draco touched her arm to reassure her. “Stinger, come with me.”

Scorpius followed Draco and Harry into the lounge, lagging behind. “Am I in trouble, Papa? I tried hard to be on my best behavior like you asked me to be.” He sat on the couch next to his Papa and shielded himself with Mr. Bunny.

Draco’s shoulders slumped. “No, honey. You’re not even a little in trouble.” When he patted his lap, Scorpius climbed up onto it. Harry perched on the arm of the chair and held one of his hands.

“Do you remember I told you where babies come from?” Draco smoothed Scorpius hair without thought, struggling to find the right words.

“You said when a papa wizard loved someone very much, they could make a baby. And you said that only mamas could have babies. But is Mr. Harry my Papa?” Confused, Scorpius scrunched his forehead in deep thought.

Draco stood and turned Scorpius to face the mirror behind the couch. Draco’s head rested against his son’s. “When you look at us, what do you see that’s the same?”

Scorpius twisted his mouth as he thought about Draco’s question. “Our hair is the same color. Our nose is the same shape. Our chins are pointy.”

“Brilliant.” Draco kissed his son’s cheek. “You are absolutely my son. And I love you forever and ever. Now. Sometimes, when magic is involved, things can go wonky. Not bad, just not what we expect. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. Like when you try to make dinner, and then we have Thai takeaway. It’s not bad, it’s just not what I expected.”

Harry snickered behind his hand and Scorpius laughed at him. “Definitely a Malfoy.”

Draco glared at him, which clearly read: shut the fuck up. “My eyes are grey. What color are yours?”

“Green.”

Draco lifted a strand of his own hair. “My hair is straight. Tell me about your hair.”

Scorpius looked in the mirror and lifted a strand of hair. “Mine’s twirly whirly.”

“Do you know anyone else whose eyes are green and whose hair is twirly whirly?” Draco’s stomach clenched. Everything rode on Scorpius’ reaction to this question. He felt Harry’s hand slide around his waist and the pressure of it meaning, I’m here.

With his free hand, Harry removed his glasses under the guise of rubbing his eyes. He slid them into his trouser pocket and then ran his hand through his messy hair.

Scorpius cocked his head and stared in the mirror. At Draco. He cocked it in the other direction. Looked at Harry.

“My eyes look like Mr. Harry’s. And his hair is twirly whirly curly.” Scorpius turned to Harry, not sure what the similarity meant.

Draco sat Scorpius on the couch and then toed off his own shoes. He lay and motioned for his son to lay with him. Scorpius snuggled up under Draco’s chin as Papa wrapped his arms around him.

“Once upon a time, there was a very very handsome Prince. He was the most beeeeyoootiful man in the entire kingdom, with his very straight, very blond hair and his grey eyes. And he didn’t have many friends—”

“Except there was a boy who didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t even want to be the Prince’s friend!” Scorpius added, remembering the story.

“But the secret was, the boy really _did_ like the Prince. He just had no idea how to talk to someone so beautiful.” Harry sat on the floor next to the couch and laced his fingers with Scorpius’.

Draco smiled and continued his story. “Finally, the Prince convinced the boy to talk to him, and then they became best friends. And then, they realized they were than more friends.”

“Yuck. Is this the kissing part? Can you leave that out?” Scorpius squeezed his eyes closed and grimaced.

“But the King wanted the Prince to marry a lady and have babies. Babies were the most important thing to the King. And he thought, if the Prince married his best friend, that wouldn’t happen.”

Harry took over, afraid that Draco might divulge too much. Not that Scorpius didn’t need or deserve to know, because he did. But not tonight. “The King was a powerful wizard, and he used a magic spell that took some of the Prince’s cells—do you know what cells are? _(Scorpius nodded, and Harry rolled his eyes. Of course he knew science. He was Draco’s son.)_ The powerful magic spell took some of the Prince’s cells to make a baby. But the King didn’t know that some of the cells belonged to the best friend.”

Harry paused, watching Scorpius to see if he’d understood.

Draco kissed his son and hugged him a bit harder. “The day the baby was born was the happiest, best day of the Prince’s life. And when he looked at his new son, the Prince knew in his heart that the baby had two fathers. The prince lived happily ever after, because he had a beeeeeyooootiful, smart, amazing son who had his other dad’s eyes and hair. And the baby’s mama let him come live with his Papa forever.”

“Why didn’t the Prince marry his best friend?”

“Sometimes, adults are poo-poo heads.” Draco’s words made Scorpius giggle. “They had an argument and stopped talking to each other.”

Scorpius’ smile spread as he understood more. “Until the Prince needed a curse breaker.”

“And certainly there are other curse breakers, but the Prince called the one he used to be in love with. Was still in love with. And wanted to see if just maybe, his friend still loved him.” Draco turned to look into Harry’s eyes.

Harry read everything in Draco’s eyes. “The friend was still really mad because all those years, he thought the Prince made the baby and married the lady. He didn’t know they’d been tricked. So, he took the job to prove the Prince was a poo-poo head. And then he knew the truth, he realized he still loved the Prince, too. And the baby had two fathers who adored him.”

“Sheesh. You’re gonna kiss again. I can tell.” Scorpius clambered over Draco and off the couch. “I’m gonna find Rose and Hugo.” He left the two men alone, laughing.

“Are we going to kiss?” Draco asked as he rolled over onto his side to face Harry.

Harry held his hand up to stop Draco. “Sorry. I only kiss princes who are beeeeeyoootiful with very straight, very blond hair.” Harry caressed Draco’s hair, the same color it had been when they’d met at 11.

“You’re in luck then.”

_The Prince moved closer to his Best Friend Back Again and snogged him senseless. And they both liked it._


	22. No Place I'd Rather Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: 
> 
> PWP. I ain't even sorry. That's the summary.

“Poor Molly. She felt so bad.”

Harry waited in the hallway as Draco turned out Scorpius’ bedroom light. So worn out from the day at The Burrow, Scorpius hadn’t even woken up when they’d removed his shoes and trousers and tucked him into bed.

“I hope she knows I meant that it was alright. Scorpius needed to know. I _wanted_ him to know. I had no idea how to tell him.”

Draco followed Harry to the kitchen and sat at the table as he made hot chocolate from scratch. Stared at Harry’s bum as he reached into a cabinet for sugar or stood on his toes for the cocoa powder. Imagined this torso as Harry stretched sideways to the refrigerator for milk and whisked the mixture in the sauce pan.

Draco moved to the counter for a better view of Harry, who’d found a chocolate bar in the cabinet and broke it into pieces to garnish their cocoa. When he offered Draco a piece, instead of answering Draco opened his mouth.

Harry dropped a corner of the Galaxy bar onto Draco’s tongue. Draco captured Harry’s fingers in his mouth and sucked them, drawing them in deeper. His tongue flicked at the tips and swirled around them. He wanted his intentions clear.

“That is not okay.” Harry’s voice dropped an octave. He stepped closer and brushed his left hand up Draco’s chest and to the nape of his neck. Into Draco’s hair.

“It’s not supposed to be okay.”

Draco released the fingers and drew Harry into a kiss. It wasn’t chaste or princely. It was too much teeth and too much need. It was filthy and had one goal. Fucking.

Draco broke the kiss long enough to strip Harry’s shirt off. To unzip his trousers.

Harry gasped as Draco’s tongue flicked one of his nipples but wouldn’t suck it. “Please.” He held Draco’s head in place until he stopped teasing and pulled the nipple between his teeth. When Harry moaned, Draco brought one hand to Harry’s arse and teased the crease; he released the nipple and concentrated on the other with his mouth, while his fingers pinched and rolled the other, already too sensitive.

“Couch?” Harry managed one word.

Draco released the nipple from his teeth and shook his head. As he slid down to his knees, Draco dragged Harry’s unzipped trousers to the floor and mouthed at the bulge in Harry’s rainbow pants.

“I bought you these after we fucked in the loo at that restaurant. I wanted to remember every time I saw them.” Draco looped his fingers over the waistband and drew them carefully over Harry’s hard cock. “I wanted you to remember every time you wore them.”

He backed Harry against the counter before taking him in. Draco swallowed down to the base of the shaft in one go. He remembered this, the way Harry moaned his name when he bobbed his head back and forth. Harry’s knees buckled and thank Merlin he was propped up against the counter.

Harry gasped when Draco pulled off. Draco’d dreamed about the times he’d sucked Harry off. He’d wake up hard and wet and jerked off, but it was nothing like the real thing, no matter how much he pretended. “I haven’t started yet, love. I just—needed to taste you before I did anything else.”

Harry didn’t respond, and when looked up, he realized Harry couldn’t. He’d thrown his head back, eyes closed, mouth open. Delicious, mewling noises. Hands resting on Draco’s head. Draco bobbed up and down, his tongue pressing, dragging, swirling until he could feel the growing tension. Draco swallowed him one final time, moaning as Harry pulled his hair and came in his mouth.

When Draco backed away, he wiped his mouth on his hand and stood up. Harry waited a moment to regain some sense and then stepped out of his trousers and pants. He took Draco’s hand and led him to the lounge. Draco lay on the couch while Harry cast a wandless spell to start a fire and to plug in the tree.

In the dim light, Harry undressed Draco, peppering him with kisses each time he uncovered new skin. He took his time, licking, nipping, sucking. When Harry finally bared Draco’s cock and swirled his tongue over the tip, sucking at the slit, Draco knew he wouldn’t last. Harry sucked him through the orgasm and then carefully climbed onto the couch.

Harry pressed himself between Draco and the back of the couch. He tapped until he found the blanket and pulled it over them. In between soft kisses, they talked about them. Lucius, Narcissa, Astoria, the shitstorm their relationship would create in the media—all of that could wait for daylight. For now, they caressed and kissed. Talked about their lives and futures. Their work and their son.

BunnyKitty settled atop the blanket on Harry’s hip. She kneaded for a moment then curled up into sleep.

“She likes you now.” Draco commented, watching Harry pet BunnyKitty. “She’s stopped hissing.”

“I think she may be part Kneazle. Once I told the truth about breaking the curses, she stopped hissing.” Harry seemed to realize that he’d been petting the cat. “I’ve stopped sneezing, too. And I ran out of your potion last week.”

Realizing they were talking about her, BunnyKitty stared them down, and once she’d put them in their place, hopped off Harry in favor of a warm spot in front of the fireplace.

“Stay tonight. Sleep here. With me.” Draco kissed Harry as he played with the curls at the base of Harry’s neck. “In bed. Not the couch.”

“It’s too soon, I think.” Harry propped himself up on one elbow. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He leaned down and kissed the corner of Draco’s mouth.

“Too soon? Not for me.”

“I mean for Scorpius. I don’t want him to think he’s losing his Papa to me. I never want that.” Harry swung his legs off the couch and sat on the edge, willing himself not to change his mind.

“Yes, I understand. That’s—good thinking.” Draco sat up behind Harry and kissed his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around Harry. “Come back tomorrow?”

“No place I’d rather be.”


	23. Father Christmas Please Hand It Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this prompt: 
> 
> in which Harry is very bad at Chess, and they take Scorpius to see Father Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some prompts were harder to meet than others.
> 
> 2 more chapters. Mulled wine. Christmas Dinner.

Harry came for dinner Tuesday night. He brought his Wizarding chess set and taught Scorpius to play while, indeed, Draco burned the food and called for Thai takeaway.

“I blame you, Potter.” Draco said over his shoulder as he paid the delivery boy. “If you hadn’t been losing quite so badly at chess…”

“Someone could have told me Scorpius knew how to play. Instead, you let me teach him, and I went easy on him.”

Draco laughed as he dished out the food. “Let’s be real. I’m pretty sure you played your best, which is still bad, and got your bum handed to you by a five-year-old.”

Harry didn’t care that he lost. Draco’s laugh was everything.

Draco put the kibosh on a rematch during dinner, no matter how many times Scorpius chanted, “Ha ha ha haaaaaa ha. I beeeeeeeat you.” He insisted that they eat their meals before any more massacres occurred.

“Speaking of things that are ridiculous…” Harry raised an eyebrow as he speared a piece of chicken curry. “Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is hosting Father Christmas tomorrow, and I thought you might want to go with me.”

“Can we? Please?” Scorpius turned to his Papa and puffed out his bottom lip, hoping the Puppy Approach would work.

“Well, I don’t know.” Draco sat back and rubbed his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “I’m really busy tomorrow. I was going to scrub the bathroom. And de-lint all of my jumpers.”

“Pleeeeeease. Mr. Harry, tell him we have to see Father Christmas before he leaves for the North Pole. We have to. If we don’t, he won’t know what I want.”

Harry puffed his bottom lip out, too; he and Scorpius stared Draco down. When Scorpius added wide-eyed blinking, it was done. “Ohhh, Scorpius uses batting his eyes. It’s super effective!” Draco flopped over onto the table, tongue lolling.

“He’s silly.” Scorpius tugged at Papa’s hair. “Come back, Papa.”

“We can go, we can go.” Draco sat up and ruffled Scorpius’ hair. “But when my jumpers have lint balls on them, you’re not allowed to be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

He cleared the dishes as Harry and Scorpius decided how bad Draco would have to look to be embarrassed to be seen with him.

“What if he had bed hair?” Scorpius asked with a giggle. “All sticky-uppy.”

“Awww, I don’t know. I always look like I have bed hair.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair to underscore his point. “What if he had a big bushy beard like Father Christmas?”

“Auntie Pansy calls that lumbersexual. What does that mean?” Scorpius asked Harry, who covered his mouth not to spit out his drink.

Draco returned to the table. “It means I’ll have to talk to Auntie Pansy, and you need to not listen to her.” He shook his head, knowing he definitely needed to watch what he said around this child.

Draco took Scorpius’ and Harry’s hands. He looked to Harry, who nodded and smiled. “Scorpius, the other night at The Burrow, Mr. Harry and I told you a story. Do you remember that?” Draco’s tone was light; he didn’t want Scorpius to feel any pressure from what he was going to say.

Scorpius nodded and pulled Mr. Bunny onto his lap. “The Prince and his Friend had wonky magic and made a baby.”

“Yes, basically.” Draco took a deep breath to still his stomach. The aroma of the brewing coffee wasn’t helping. “A long time ago, before you were born, Mr. Harry and I were—a family. We had a disagreement, and we stopped—being a family.” He wanted to be careful with his words, wanted Scorpius to know that he wasn’t the cause. Harry squeezed his hand for support. “When you were born, I knew Harry was your daddy, too. But I didn’t know how to tell him, because I knew he was angry.”  
`  
Scorpius hugged Mr. Bunny tight to his chest. “Are you still angry?”

“No. Not even a little.” Harry came to Scorpius and scooted down next to him. “I only found out about you last week, when I saw you at the tea room. Then your Papa and I talked.”

Scorpius nodded and released his grip on Mr. Bunny just enough that the stuffed animal slid into Scorpius’ lap.

“We realized two things. First, your Papa and I love each other, so sometimes, you may see us kissing. We’ll try to be careful because we know it’s yucky.”

Scorpius giggled as he grimaced.

“Also, I would really like to be part of your family because I love you.” Harry kissed Scorpius’ forehead. “I’m not taking Papa’s place, ok?” He waited for a sign of understanding.

Scorpius thought it through and nodded. “You’re like another Papa?”

Draco held Scorpius’ hand. “Yes. Another. Some people have a mum and dad. Some have two mums. You have two fathers.” He let that thought rest.

Scorpius held Mr. Bunny out to Harry, who cuddled him. Scorpius’ smile grew, and Draco suspected Harry had just passed some test.

“What do I call you, Mr. Harry?”

“What would you like to call me? I’m open to anything, except possibly Magillicuddy. I don’t think I look anything like a Magillicuddy.” Harry laughed, and to Draco, he looked like the happiest man on the planet. Except possibly for Draco himself.

“I know what I should call him.” Scorpius waved Draco closer, and Draco braced himself. “Bad at chess!” Squeals of silly giggles filled the kitchen.

Harry slapped his hand over his eyes in mock disgust. “Ok, maybe not anything.”

Scorpius retrieved Mr. Bunny from Harry and held on to him as he thought. “Could I let you know when I decide?” When Harry nodded, Scorpius hopped off his chair and took off down the hall at full run. In his wake he called _MayIbeExcusedThankyou_.

~*~

Two days before Christmas, Weasleys’ was bound to be packed, but adding Father Christmas ensured it. They’d advertised in the Prophet, and anyone on their mailing list received a firecall to _See Father Christmas in Person and Get a Treat!_ Draco wasn’t sure what kind of parents would allow their child to eat a mystery treat from Weasleys’. But then, he knew he would be one of those parents.

In the courtyard in front of the store, Ron and George had built a throne entirely of Skiving Snackboxes. _Available for purchase inside!_ Father Christmas looked like he’d walked out of a storybook. Chubby with a halo of white hair and a thick, white beard. His ho ho ho sounded as perfect as any from a Muggle movie. Two giant nutcracker soldiers, with their tall black hats and royal blue jackets, flanked the throne. Draco thought they looked menacing as their mouths chomped open and closed.

“Any bets on which Weasley is Father Christmas?” Draco whispered as he elbowed Harry.

“I’m going to say Arthur, since I’ve seen Ron, George, and Bill already.” Harry pointed out ginger heads in the crowd. “I’m more concerned about the treats they’re giving out. Ron said they’ve wrapped _Ton-Tongue Toffee, Fainting Fancies, and Fever Fudge_ in the same paper so you don’t know what you’re getting.”

“I’ll tell Scorpius they have bogies in them. And then bribe him with Honeydukes.” Draco shook his head; any of those would send Scorpius over the edge. It would be worth every Galleon it cost him at Honeydukes.

The queue of families waiting to talk to Father Christmas snaked around the building. Since the temperatures hovered closer to 5 degrees than the 0 where it’d stayed for the past week, people left their hats and scarves home so it was much easier to tell who was milling about. Whispers of Malfoy and Potter ran through the adults in the queue. This wasn’t new to Draco and Harry; they’d learned how to handle the notoriety their first time. Their concern now was Scorpius.

They needn’t have been worried.

As Harry and Draco stood in the queue, Scorpius bounced back and forth from Father Christmas, from the Nutcrackers, from the Elves who looked suspiciously like people he’d met at The Burrow. He spoke with Mr. Bunny and waved to people who’d been brave enough to leave with one of the treats.

Ron and George appeared, searching the crowd for their friends. When they spotted Scorpius and the two men, they hustled them out of the courtyard and into the store’s backroom.

“Sorry, mates. Got word that the Prophet is sending someone to try to interview you about your _relationship status_.” Ron’s air quotes left no doubt how he felt about the newspaper.

Scorpius’ eyes teared up. “But now he won’t know.”

“Who, love?” Harry knelt on the hard wooden floor to talk to Scorpius.

“Father Christmas. I need to talk to him.”

“I got you,” Ron said. He opened the office door, and Father Christmas stomped in with a Happy Christmas!

Scorpius’ mouth dropped open. He stood speechless, his feet rooted in place.

“Who’s this handsome lad?” Father Christmas’ hand dwarfed Scorpius’ as he shook it.

Scorpius stuttered, introducing himself, his Papa, and Harry.

Father Christmas wheeled the chair out from under the desk and drew Scorpius onto his lap. “Tell me everything.”

The whiskers tickled as Scorpius moved closer so he wouldn’t miss a word. He wanted Exploding Snap, and a new chess set, more books. A real dinosaur. A unicorn, if it wasn’t too much trouble. And he needed to know a special spell.

“That’s quite a list, young Scorpius. I understand you’re excellent at riding your new broom. Do you like to play Quidditch?”

For the second time that day, Scorpius’ mouth dropped open. “How do you know?”

“I am never too busy to watch my magic telly. I saw you riding at The Burrow on Sunday.”

“I was! I really was!” Scorpius ran to Draco. “Papa, he knows everything.”

Father Christmas belly-laughed. “I have to leave now, to see the other children. Is there anything else?”

Scorpius motioned Father Christmas to come lower and whispered in his ear.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! I’ll tell you in your dreams. It will be an early Christmas gift.” As Father Christmas left, Scorpius dashed up and bear-hugged him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Scorpius.” Father Christmas hugged him and left.

When Draco asked Scorpius what he’d asked for, he received no answer. “It’s Christmas time, Papa. If I tell you, the surprise will be ruined.”


	24. A Very Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loosely based on this prompt: 
> 
> It's Christmas Eve after Scorpius is in bed. They exchange gifts and then frickle frack. Because I'm 12 and I can't say have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 is coming, but may not be tomorrow. Entire family is home for the week.
> 
> This chapter title comes from John Lennon's So This Is Christmas

Harry’d spent a year of his life living in a tent and tramping around the United Kingdom in search of the Dark Lord.

He’d faced death and returned to life.

He’d dueled the Dark Lord with nothing more than his wand and his skill.

He’d rid the world of evil.

But not one of those events compared to wrestling a five-year-old child into bed on Christmas Eve.

“Can I stay up to see Father Christmas?”  
“Can I hide behind the couch?”  
“Can I feed the reindeer?”  
“What if he falls through the roof?”  
“What if he gets stuck in our chimney?”  
“What if a bird’s made a nest in the chimney and when Father Christmas goes down it, the bird pecks his eyes out.”

Harry tucked the blanket around Scorpius and Mr. Bunny. “None of that is going to happen, Stinger. And Father Christmas can’t even come if you don’t go to sleep.”

Harry leaned over and tucked Scorpius’ shoes under his bed. When he turned back around, Scorpius’ eyes were scrunched closed and his snores would have woken the dead.

“Nice try, sport.” Harry tickled him just enough for Scorpius to open his eyes.

“Will you be here in the morning?” Scorpius rolled over and hesitated before he took Harry’s hand.

“I—I hadn’t thought about it. Do you want me to be?”

Scorpius nodded and curled around Mr. Bunny. His eyelids felt heavy as he tried to stay awake. “Will you tell me a story?”

Harry smiled softly and kissed the back of Scorpius’ hand. “Once upon a time there was a man who thought he didn’t need any Christmas gifts. He thought he didn’t want any Christmas gifts. But Father Christmas knew better, and gave him the two best gifts ever.”

“Is it me?” Scorpius mumbled into Mr. Bunny’s ears.

“Yes, honey. You’re one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. I love you.” Harry kissed his head and turned out the light.  
“Love…too…Dada.”

Harry did not cry. He absolutely didn’t. And if it looked like he were, then he must be allergic to Mr. Bunny. That’s all.

Harry collapsed on the couch next to Draco. “Merlin’s-fucking-beard, I so owe you.”

“Not that you don’t, because of course you do, but why?” Draco toed the platter of cream crackers and cheddar cheese closer to Harry and then rested both feet on the coffee table.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you just used your shoe to offer me food.”

“Shut up. At least you know where my shoe’s been.” Draco waggled his feet in their trainers.

“I’d better know where all of you has been.” Harry sat up, his side pressed against Draco. He caressed Draco’s chest and kissed the corner of his mouth, brushed their noses before nipping Draco’s lip.

“You do. You always have.” Draco cradled Harry’s face and kissed him sensuously, nuzzling him. Draco loved this, breathing the same breaths and feeling light-headed. Against Harry’s lips, Draco said, “I approve of your methods, but don’t distract me. Why do I owe you?”

“For putting Scorpius to bed every night for 5 years. That takes serious patience.” Harry’s hand eased down Draco’s abdomen and kneaded the growing bulge in Draco’s trousers. “So yeah, I owe you.”

“If you insist…” Draco kissed Harry, his lips parting so he could draw Harry in, tease him, promise him. His palm traced Harry’s jaw, down his neck. Too many clothes. Too many.

Draco stopped for a moment. “Gift.”

“You are...” Harry nipped Draco’s jaw, pulled his collar aside to bite where his shoulder rose to meet his neck. “…the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

Draco pulled back just enough to be able to think. “No. Well, yes, you are the best gift. But I want you to open your gifts tonight.”

“Is that a euphemism for take off all my clothes? Because I can do that.” Harry drew Draco in, kissing him, gently sucking at Draco’s tongue in a promise of what was still to happen.

Draco found the will to pull back again. “Gah. I probably won’t be able to stop again, and I _(Harry kissed him)_ …Really want to _(Harry’s lips and tongue pressed against his)_ …  
Give you your gifts _(Harry palmed his own cock, which was even hotter than when he pressed Draco’s)_ tonight.”

Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s shoulder. “Give me a minute.”

Draco nodded. Yes. A minute. Or two. He left the couch, hoping that would help them both. He’d hidden Harry’s gifts in the mudroom, and on his way back to the lounge, grabbed a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

Harry lay with his head against the back of the couch, his eyes closed. With the soft pop of the cork, he sat up and shifted the stack of presents to the side.

Draco poured the wine and handed Harry a glass. “I’d kiss you, but I—I wouldn’t be able to stop. So before I do, Happy Christmas.” He nudged two gifts to Harry.

“Gryffindor colors?” Harry looked at the sophisticated maroon paper with gold ribbon with a raised eyebrow.

Draco sniffed in distaste. “I would never. It just happens to be an acceptable color combination for the holiday.” He eyed the packages that Harry had handed him, wrapped in garish, orange Chudley Cannons paper. “Unlike orange.”

Harry laughed with a sense of freedom and light he hadn’t felt in years. “Shut up and open your gifts.”

Draco nodded with a shy smile. “You first.”

Harry picked up the first present. “No fair. You used gift boxes. I can’t guess what it is.” He shook it. Sniffed it. Turned it over and observed it from all angles.

“For fuck’s sake, Potter. You could have opened it by now.” Draco rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to tear the paper off for Harry.

“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have the added gift of annoying you.” Harry’s toothy, innocent smile made Draco laugh.

“Berk. Open the gift.”

Harry untied the bow and slit the tape, delighting in Draco’s huffs. He wiggled the lid off the box. “Oh, Draco.”

Harry lifted the photo album from the tissue paper. “My Birth,” Harry read, his voice cracking. He looked up at Draco with tears in his eyes. “This is—” He flipped through the photos: Scorpius in the Healer’s hands. Being weighed, the numbers 3.3kg visible. A cloth washing him off. Swaddled in a blanket. Placed in Draco’s arms. Draco’s fingers touching the dark curls on the baby’s head. Draco sleeping, curled around the newborn in his arms.

The dark circles under Draco’s eyes, the limp hair. How his eyes moved as he slept. They broke Harry’s heart. “I’m so sorry.” He looked up at Draco, his tears ready to spill over.

“No, it’s not sad.” Draco touched Harry’s arm, hoping to reassure him. “It was our past, not our future.” He handed Harry his wand. “Tap any page.”

Harry turned to the first page with the newly born baby in the Healer’s hands. He tapped his wand and heard Scorpius’ heartbeat.

“Aren’t you handsome with those curls?” the nurse’d told Scorpius as she weighed him.

“You have your daddy’s curls.” Draco’s voice had cracked as he’d touched the curls on his baby’s head.

Each picture had also captured the words spoken at the time. Each filled Harry’s heart until he couldn’t hold on any longer. He wept as Draco held him. “I know it’s not sad. It’s beautiful. I hate the time I missed with you.”

Draco wiped Harry’s cheeks with the pads of his thumb. “I’m going to live in every moment we have from tonight.”

Harry nodded. _It does not do to dwell on dreams_ , Dumbledore had said. Or the past. He reverently replaced the photo album in the box and picked up the second package, much smaller than the first.

Harry opened the second gift without teasing Draco. He unwrapped the tissue paper and held up an antique skeleton key.

“The key to this house. Of course, you already have access through the wards, but I wanted you to know—it’s yours, too.” Draco had thought for a long time about the gifts. They weren’t flashy or expensive, but they meant something to him.

“I love them.” Harry paused to compose himself and waved his hand, generally meaning open yours.

Draco reached for the first. “Are you sure? I would hate to ruin this lovely paper.” He fingered the ragged, torn edge of the Cannon’s wrapping.

“Shut the fuck up and open it.” Harry threw a crumpled ball of paper at Draco.

Draco felt the outline of a frame as he tore the paper. A photograph of them in a rare, non-confrontational moment during a Hogwarts’ Quidditch match, both covered in mud and smiling. “Where did you find this?”

“I have a friend who has a friend who used to cover professional Quidditch at _The Prophet_. Someone had thought a Slytherin/Gryffindor match would make a good story… blah blah Chosen One… blah blah son of a Death Eater.” Harry rushed through that part, hating the two appellations. “Anyway, photo.”

“I had no idea we even had a moment when we weren’t trying to kill each other.” Draco kissed Harry quickly. “I love it.”

He opened the second gift and stared in stunned silence. “For real?”

_Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Adult Toys_  
_Voice-Operated Vibrating Dildo_

“It’s something new they’re trying, adult toys. I have it on good authority it’s—very—”

Draco picked up the gift, walked past the plate of biscuits and butterbeer (taking the cookies and downing half the drink) and left the room. He stopped, looked at Harry over his shoulder, and walked up the hallway toward his bedroom.

Harry scrambled off the couch and followed him, slowing down as he reached Draco’s room. No sense in looking overly eager.

Who the fuck was Harry kidding. He dashed into the room and locked the door behind him. He wanted this. Together they’d been electric; Harry knew they would be again

Draco felt no awkwardness as he approached Harry. “I’ve missed your body.” He unbuttoned Harry’s shirt and pushed it from his shoulders. It fluttered to the floor, and Draco toed it away. He dragged his nails down Harry’s chest as he kissed him, hard and bruising.

Harry worked Draco’s shirt over his head. Unbuckled his belt. Pushed his trousers and pants down without taking the time to unzip them. “You need to eat more,” Harry said against Draco’s lips between kisses.

Draco stepped out of his clothes while he nipped the length of Harry’s neck. He unzipped Harry’s jeans and slid his hands down the waist. He edged them off as he knelt down in front of Harry.

“You’re so right. I do need to eat more.” Draco cast a wandless protection spell, wet his lips and took the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the crown, flicking over the slit, tasting the salty tang of him. He loved the heaviness of Harry’s cock on his tongue.

Harry thrust his hips in small, shallow moves until Draco pushed back with his palm on Harry’s pelvis. He wanted to swallow Harry down, but if he didn’t hold back, Harry would come in his mouth. And that wasn’t what Draco wanted tonight.

Draco pulled off and stood up. When he spoke, his voice was thick with need. “I want you.” Harry’s eyes were closed, and he nodded, trembling as Draco led him to the bed. “Lie down. I want to ride you.”

Harry lay on the bed, his arms over his head and watched Draco move. Fluid and graceful, he straddled Harry’s thighs and leaned forward, his palms flat on the bed. Draco crushed their mouths together, teeth hitting as they kissed and bit and sucked. The scrape of Harry’s beard stubble hurt and felt amazing on Draco’s cheeks and neck.

With a wandless spell, Harry’s palm filled with lube. He dragged his fingers through it and then teased Draco’s opening, sliding over it, circling without entering.

Draco rocked against Harry’s hand, desperate for to be breached. His cock bobbed between their bodies, smearing against Harry’s belly as it slid over it. “Please.” Draco begged. “I want—”

“Shhhh. I know.” Harry slipped his middle finger inside Draco. “You’re so. fucking. tight. Feel so good.” He pushed a second finger inside, moving slowly so he wouldn’t hurt Draco.

“Potter please. Just fuck me. If it’s too much, if it hurts, I’ll let you know.” Draco dropped his head and kissed Harry’s shoulder, nipping until he left a bruise.

Harry slapped Draco’s ass. “Don’t boss me, Malfoy.” He lined his cock up with Draco’s hole, and Draco sank slowly until he felt Harry’s balls against his ass.

“I love you.” Draco looked into Harry’s eyes. They were beautiful, the color of shoots pushing up through the frozen ground, the promise that winter was over and Spring would bring new life.

“I love you, too.” Harry’s graveled voice rocked Draco. “Now fucking move.”

Draco rolled his hips; it felt so goddamn good, he wanted to scream. “Wait. Wait a mo.” Wandlessly, he cast a Muffliato so they wouldn’t need to be silent. “Better?”

“ _Fuckyeah_.” Harry pushed back up into Draco, whose filthy noise was worth the time out.

Draco rode Harry, rolling his hips, swirling them, dragging them up and down. They moved together, their bodies’ memories taking over. Draco slid his palm across Harry’s, taking whatever lube was left. He fucked his fist and felt the electricity pooling in his arse, his spine, his cock. He moved without thinking, crying out beautiful words as he came, pulsing over his fist. His thighs pressed against Harry’s legs, and he felt Harry’s orgasm fill him as he clenched around him.

Draco had spent years trying to forget this feeling of making love with Harry but he never could. Of being absolutely full and stretched, not wanting to move because he didn’t want a single thing to change, until his arms shook from holding himself up, and he had to roll off and onto the bed. He turned to face Harry, who kissed him languidly, and he loved it.

They caressed each other with no purpose other than exploration and remembering. Eventually, Draco leaned up to look at the clock. “Ahhh it’s 2 am. We are going to hate life in a few hours.”

“I refuse to believe that.” Harry smiled at him as he left the bed and used his shirt to clean himself. “Shower?”

“No. We’ve got to get some sleep, or we’ll be cranky.” Draco padded to the bathroom and wiped himself clean with a wet flannel. Before he returned to bed, he made sure to unlock the door.

“Speak for yourself. I won’t be cranky. I just got laid.” Harry pulled the blanket back for Draco. As he slid under the covers, he noticed that Harry now wore one of Draco’s t-shirts.

Draco laughed. “We forgot to use my Christmas gift. I guess we’ll have to do that all over again.”

“Ugh no.” Harry grimaced theatrically. “I’d hate that.” He curved against Draco’s back. “Y’know, Scorpius asked if I’d be here in the morning.”

The simple words were heavy with meaning. Draco swallowed hard and then looked over his shoulder. “Tomorrow morning. Every morning.”

“Sounds like you’re inviting me to move in.” Harry kissed Draco’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you clever.” Draco smiled and tapped Harry’s nose. “Go to sleep, Potter.”

Harry curled in closer. He was almost asleep, when he remembered. “Scorpius called me Dada,” he said against Draco’s neck.

“I like it. Dada.”

“Me, too.”

Draco fell asleep, lulled by Harry’s quiet breathing. _Happy Christmas to us._


	25. Get Dressed Ye Merry Gentlemen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on this final prompt: 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for hanging with me through this fic. I've never done something that was so off the cuff, but I loved it, and I'm glad y'all liked it too.

Scorpius flung the bedroom door open and flew through the doorway of the without knocking. To be fair, the screechy-squeak of the hinges replaced the knock quite nicely.

Draco heard a screechy-squeak under the covers next to him. “Whatthefuckwasthat?” Harry asked as he clawed the mattress.

“Welcome to fatherhood.” Draco cracked an eyelid open and looked at the clock. He part grumbled -part groaned, “It’s only 5:30 in the morning.”

“Papa! Papa! Father Christmas came! Hey, what’s that lump there?" Scorpius climbed up the foot of the bed and stomped across the mattress to investigate. "Look. I'm a giant!" He clumped over the duvet and sheets, in the 15cm alley between bodies.

Scorpius stomped on Draco’s ankle and tumbled sideways, landing on Draco’s kidney. He hoped Harry was faring better.

"Hey! It’s a person." Scorpius poked the lump. “Mr. Harry, is that you?” He leaned down to look into the tangle of blankets just as Harry rose up and scared him with a loud boo!

Scorpius collapsed on Harry in giggles. "Hey! You're wearing my Papa’s shirt. It's from my school." He pulled at the red vest with the school’s Blast-Ended Skrewt mascot across the front.

Harry looked down at the shirt. “I thought, this way, people will know you’re _my_ Scorpius and I’m _your_ Dada."

Scorpius scrunched his forehead, deep in thought. “Okay,” he said with complete acceptance. “Hey. Are you going to be here every morning when I wake up?"

"That's up to your Papa, but I would really like to be.”

“You should ask him.” Scorpius nodded wisely. “And if he says, _we’ll see_ , that’s better than a no.”

Draco’s head rose from under the duvet. “Why is everyone talking when I'm trying to sleep?" He pulled it back over his head, pretending to hide.

Scorpius turned around and poked Draco. Right in his bladder. "Papa! Father Christmas came and he ate the cookies and drink the butter beer. Come on!" He jumped off the bed and ran off toward the lounge.

Harry snuggled against Draco’s back and brushed his lips over Draco’s shoulder. “Good morning to you.” Harry’s voice sounded excited and not the least bit ruffled by the wake-up call. "So, would that be a _no_ to lazy morning sex?"

Draco laughed until his body shook with it. "That's a no for lazy anything. Have you not met Scorpius?"

"OK rain check then because—” Harry pulled on his jeans and, when he was half out of the room, turned back to Draco and smiled. “—I was going to ask you to fuck me this time.”

Harry heard Draco's tortured moan halfway down the hall.

"Is Papa all right?"

"Yes, honey. He's fine. He’s getting dressed.” Harry looked at the piles of gifts under the tree. “Merlin, look what Father Christmas brought. Are they all for me?”

“Nooooooo, they’re for meeeeeeee.” Scorpius giggled as he and Mr. Bunny sat on the edge of the couch, wanting to lunge for the gifts, but knowing it would be poor manners.

“Stinger, if you get dressed, that will take up some time, and I can start the kettle for tea.” Harry watched Scorpius run up the hall with BunnyKitty on his heels.

“Some parts of that kid are me,” Draco said as he wrapped his arms around Harry in the kitchen, “But some are so you. He has your unflagging energy.”

Harry turned around and waggled his eyebrows. “My energy isn’t the only thing that won’t flag.” He dropped a kiss onto Draco’s cheek before he made caffeine to fortify them.

Just as Harry poured the boiling water into the two mugs, an owl tapped at the window.

“I don’t recognize this one.” Draco opened the window just wide enough for the owl to hop through. He untied the message and offered the owl a treat and the opportunity to warm up. The owl took the treat, refused the perch, and flew away into the new morning.

Draco unrolled the parchment. He pressed his lips together as he read, his brow furrowed. Once he finished reading, a smile spread across his face.

“Good news?” Harry asked, backing away from his instinct to pry for details.

“The best.” Draco grinned, and took his tea and the parchment out to the lounge. He hugged Scorpius and set him free onto the pile of packages.

Although no real dragon or unicorn made its way under the tree, Draco had found a plush unicorn and a remote control dragon in a Muggle toy shop. Scorpius unwrapped books from Draco, including a _Child’s Recipe Book for Fun Potions!_ Harry gave him a Chudley Cannons Quidditch kit; Draco threw up a little bit in his mouth when he tried to smile at that gift.

Scorpius handed Draco a gift that he’d wrapped himself. “I made it in school.”

Draco peeled away each piece of tape as reverently as if it had come from an upscale boutique. “A calendar. How did you know I needed one?”

Scorpius turned each page for Papa, showing him the pictures he’d drawn and how he’d numbered the calendar pages all by himself. “It even has your birthday and my birthday and Mr. Harry’s!”

Draco hugged Scorpius and buried his face in his neck. “I love it. And I love you so much. You’re the best gift.”

Scorpius wiggled free. “Mr. Harry and I picked some gifts out, too, when we went shopping.” He carried several boxes over to Draco and dropped them on his lap. “I promised I wouldn’t tell you they’re books.” Scorpius slapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide above his fingers. “Oh no.” which sounded more like moh-moh through his fingers.

Draco stifled a smile and shook his head. “Merlin, I’m having trouble with my ears. They’re so stuffed, and I can hardly hear out of them.”

Scorpius breathed a visible sigh and whispered very loudly to Harry, “Don’t worry. He didn’t hear me.”

Harry flashed him a thumbs-up, not bothering to hide his own grin.

“Oh my goodness, they’re books!” Draco said when he opened the package. “ _Quotes from the World’s Best Father,_ ” he read. When he flipped through the book, he realized it was blank.

“Cuz you have to write in it, Papa! You’re the world’s best father.” Scorpius beamed. “Open the other one.”

Draco unwrapped his final gift. _Wizarding Day Trips_. “We thought maybe when you had time off, we could go places.”

“With you two?” Draco grimaced with disappointment. “Do I haaaaaaave to?”

Scorpius giggled as he nodded. “You do, Papa. You have to take us, because we’re a family.”

Draco turned his back to Harry and Scorpius, as he fumbled for the parchment. He was glad to have a reason to turn away; Scorpius’ happiness was real and pure, and Draco almost cried.

“Who’s that last gift for?” Harry asked, his voice sounding like he already knew the answer.

“Meeeee!” Scorpius scooted back to the tree and shredded the wrapping. He unfolded a thick hand-knit jumper, dark green with a grey S on the front. He dragged it over his head and thrust his arms through the sleeves.

Draco’s mouth hung open. “Molly knitted him a jumper.”

“A Weasley jumper for Christmas means you are a proper part of the family.” Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s. “She hasn’t finished yours yet. Apparently I’d talked often and loud about Scorpius, but not so much about you until we went to The Burrow last week.”

“I love it.” Scorpius patted the front and traced the S with his finger. “Can I wear it when we go to The Burrow for Christmas Dinner?”

“Oh, you have to. It’s the law.” Harry said, without a hint of a smile until Scorpius giggled.

“Come here, Stinger. I want to read you something.” Draco patted his lap, and Scorpius settled in the crook of Draco’s left arm.

Draco took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “Do you remember Dada and I told you about wonky magic making perfect you?” Scorpius pulled Mr. Bunny against his chest and nodded. “I received an owl this morning from the woman whose belly you grew in.”

He let that sit, to see how Scorpius would respond. When he didn’t say anything, Draco continued. “May I read it to you?”

 

_I’m so happy for you and Harry that your son is growing into a wonderful young man. I am glad I could be his surrogate carrier and be a small part of that miracle._

Draco handed the parchment to Harry to read.

_Draco_

_I’m so happy for you and Harry that your son is growing into a wonderful young man. I am glad I could be his surrogate carrier and be a small part of that miracle._

_I’ve spent the last 5 years with a Healer-Therapist trying to work through what happened. It hasn’t been easy; I have no legal recourse against your father because of how meticulous he was with his paperwork and lawyer._

_I do not blame your son; however, I’ve left the country, and I have my own family now. Please tell him that I was a surrogate carrier with no emotional connection to you and that is why I’m not with him. What you choose to tell him about your father is up to you. I do not want any further contact with you or him; please respect my wishes._

_~Astoria Greengrass_

 

Draco set Scorpius loose to play with his toys while he made breakfast. “I’d asked my lawyer to contact her, to see what role she wanted in his life.”

He made breakfast in silence, thinking how much ugliness surrounded his beautiful son’s birth. Harry must have read Draco’s mind; he took the wooden spoon out of Draco’s hand and turned the temperature on the stove down. Then he held Draco until Draco could breathe again.

“That was kind of her.” Harry said, his mouth against Draco’s hair. Draco nodded. He had more to say, but today wasn’t the day.

They drank their tea and ate oatmeal and watched Scorpius play with his new toys until it was time to leave for The Burrow.

 

~*~

 

The Burrow’s fireplace roared to life and Draco, Harry and Scorpius stepped out into the middle of a crowd of Weasleys. Within seconds, the children grabbed Scorpius and were off playing.

Draco hung back, overwhelmed by the boisterous family. Within seconds they absorbed him, welcomed him, and had a drink in his hand.

“Here you are, dear.” Molly took the drink from Draco’s hand and replaced it with a grey jumper. Before he looked, Draco knew he’d have an emerald green D on the front.

“Thank you, Molly.” Draco hugged her, still holding the jumper in one hand. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

She squeezed him and then released Draco. “Just make Harry happy.” She bustled off toward the kitchen.

In the noise of the party, they missed the tiny owl tip-tapping at the window. “Mummy. Mummy!” Hugo pointed at the bird as he tugged at his mum’s shirt.

Hermione brought the nearly-frozen owl inside, mumbling about _owl rights_ and _shouldn’t be flying in this weather._

“It’s addressed to Master Scorpius Malfoy.” Hermione sounded surprised and called Scorpius to the kitchen.

He unrolled the parchment with the casual attitude of someone who frequently received mail at others’ houses. Scorpius and Mr. Bunny read the parchment, and then he jumped up and down and cheered. “Father Christmas remembered! He sent me my spell!”

He handed Mr. Bunny to Draco and then thrust the parchment at him. “Papa, say this and point your wand at Mr. Bunny.”

Draco puzzled over the spell. With a flick and a swish, Draco said: _Lepis Loqueris_.

“Hi, Papa! Hi, Dada! Hi, everyone!”

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” It was all Draco could manage.

“Whew. Thank you Scorpius for finding this spell so everyone can hear me!”

“I don’t—what?” Harry couldn’t figure out who was throwing their voice to seem like the stuffed animal was talking. “Where?”

“Hagrid sent me when Scorpius was born. He wanted to make sure Scorpius would always have a friend, because he knows sometimes people don’t treat the Malfoys so good. But you know, I think maybe Hagrid used the wrong spell or something, because I don’t think I was supposed to be able to think and talk.”

The room was silent as every person focused only on Mr. Bunny.

“Oh my—Merlin’s saggy balls.” Hermione finally said.

“I’m so glad you two figured out you’re still in love.” Mr. Bunny’s head didn’t move. His eyes didn’t move. But Merlin, he could talk. “Dada put that jinx on the furnace so you could see him without his shirt on.”

Harry stuttered, his face turning scarlet. “What? I didn’t—I’d never.”

Draco laughed, a beautiful laugh that filled the room. “I knew it was weird when I woke up shivering the next morning.” He hugged Harry and kissed him gently on his lips.

“Papa, you’re super good at getting rid of dark curses. I didn’t know you could use them, though! That was pretty clever how you cursed the house.” Mr. Bunny sounded genuinely impressed with Draco’s intelligence.

“You did what now?” Harry turned to Draco, a grin brightening up his face.

“Nothing. I did nothing.” It was Draco’s turn to change from pale to scarlet.

“Sure you did. You put dark magic spells on the house and then you called Dada. You said in one of your great bedtime stories how much you really missed him. Well, technically speaking, Scorpius was already asleep when you said it, but I was wide awake. And you also said you missed his—”

Draco grabbed his wand from the floor where it had dropped from his hand and cast the counter curse written on the parchment. _“Lepus Silentium!”_

Mr. Bunny’s voice died out in the silence. Then all the revelers spoke at once, over each other, laughing and accusing and explaining.

“You fixed the heater so it would be too hot in the house?” Draco asked Harry, who looked sheepish. “So, I’d see that you still had your rainbow pants that I bought you?”

Harry nodded as he laughed. “You cursed the house, and told me you’d removed most of them? Just so you’d have a reason to call me?”

Draco laughed until he couldn’t breathe, until he needed Harry to hold him up.

“Papa, I don’t understand what’s going on.” Scorpius pulled Draco’s hand from Harry’s waist.

“Dada and I were ridiculous. You are adorable. And Mr. Bunny was smarter than all of us.” Draco picked Scorpius up and hugged him.

Scorpius snuggled in, then reached out to Harry who joined the hug. Draco smiled at them both and said, “I think tonight’s story is gonna start, once upon a time Father Christmas answered a little prince’s wish, so that his two fathers knew how long they’d loved each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have another Harry Potter fest that i'm doing. It's harry potter golden age. I think I'm going to use this AU for that. 
> 
> If you would consider subscribing, you'll be notified when that posts, but it won't post til March. 
> 
> Also, I've talked a little about the HP/Draco where they go to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando. That should be posted in the next week (it was part of an anonymous fest).
> 
> xoxo

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hand-Stitched Felt Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548279) by [bracari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bracari/pseuds/bracari)




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